. “I ought to have done. She confided in me yesterday. She was crushed with a sense of her own terrible impotency. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. The kissing of the book struck her as particularly odd, and then the policemen gave their evidence in staccato jerks and stereotyped phrases. ’ But I made sure it was you. She had found two copies of the magazine and carefully cut out both photos. “Some day,” she answered. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. It was rude and disrespectful to raise her eyes to him, her mother had warned. She dragged the broken bottle across her carotid artery, creating an inch-deep gash upon her throat. She fell asleep instantaneously, fatigued from weeks of exhaustion. I hate myself!” She collapsed to the floor, sobbing.
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