She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. Long before religion and Society heard of Doubt, girls were all for midnight coaches and Gretna Green. She didn’t like the shops, she didn’t like the other women’s faces; she thought the smirking men in frock-coats who dominated these establishments the most intolerable persons she had ever had to face. Twice we hired caterers. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. I shall only pray that I may reward you for all your goodness to me.
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