” She thanked him with a look and rose to her feet. She was saying good-bye to childhood and home, and her making; she was going out into the great, multitudinous world; this time there would be no returning. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. “Sure, I guess so. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. The order was promptly obeyed, and the horses proceeded at a furious pace along the Edgeware Road. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap.
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