She is borrowing my pen.

And though this may only seem an adventure of northern stomachs, yet as Herodotus tells us, in the hotter clime of Persia, the same was a convival dish, and solemnly eaten at the feasts of their nativities.

I am the one who wakes up nearest to myself, and the continual horror that comes from the realisation of this individuality has made me almost to believe that the reactions of others to my horrible self […] are small enough, in comparison, to be counted as the others' loss or to be beaten down by one unsulky thought.

The answer appears on the fifty-sixth page of the book.