Although, if somebody said to me that really her muse is of the first type, a figure from her past that became so important to her that all of her endeavors, from a certain point onward, were undertaken for that figure; and then identified that figure as Sally Seton, the friend from her youth who kissed her on the lips one summer evening, while they were walking back and forth on the verandah of a house in the countryside, in a moment that Clarissa, at fifty-one, still thinks of as “the most exquisite moment of her whole life”…yes, if somebody told me that really Clarissa’s muse is of this first type, and that the figure in question was Sally Seton, I don’t think I’d disagree with that person.