“Vee,” she said, “come home. It was the blouse that gave Lucy away. Have you been away from Morningside Park?” “I’m not interrupting you?” “You are. There was a wild light in her eye, and her straight hair was out demonstrating and suffragetting upon some independent notions of its own. I freely forgive you. It is a big house and there are many rooms in which to hide. ” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled. We shall have—hardly any money. “Looks like old times here, I see. At length, he fell down on the road, fully expecting each moment would prove his last. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. Her moods were many and always striking.
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