"No!" she cried. She is a woman chosen in youth for her beauty and her intelligence. The world into which she was so boldly venturing was going to be wonderful, but never so wonderful as the world within these paper covers. Her heart full of dread, she dragged on it. The voices went into his ears but left no impression of their import. Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. .
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