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559 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1890


"We shall probably never know how much he has been in love with her nor what difference it makes. We shall never know exactly what he came back for, nor why he scrambled down here all but straight from the station, nor why, after all, for the last two hours, he has been roaming the streets. And it doesn't matter, for it's none of our business."Well, Mr. James, for the last 550 pages you have been telling us exactly what was going in people's heads and now you have a character telling us it is impossible to learn what we have been reading about for all this time. Which is it, huh? I think Henry was having a little poke at his readers and is alluding to the immense falseness of fiction (the omniscienct pose) that he required to make something so true. The Tragic Muse indeed.