I sometimes laid away my father's clothes in his trunk. I am going to make a fresh start. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. I love you still, Anna, but life holds other things than the love of man for woman. Oh, goodness! Bilking! Ann Veronica, you’re a bilker!” Pause. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world.
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