She bought her Greyhound ticket one steamy afternoon when school let out at eleven thirty A. She had set out to get a beautiful life, a free, untrammelled life, self-development, without counting the cost either for herself or others. Wrap yourself in my cloak, and keep it. It was still profoundly dark; but the wind, which had begun to blow with some violence, chased the clouds rapidly across the heavens, and dispersed the vapours hanging nearer the earth. There, that sounds frightfully involved, doesn’t it, but perhaps you can make out what I mean. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. The relationship seemed to have almost as much to do with blood and body as a mortgage. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames.
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