Sheppard. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. She forced herself not to think of John. I’ll feel fine as soon as I get out of my wet clothes. ” “Possibly—bit by bit. One day I can be a Gothic chick, and the next day I’ll be Hitler Youth. ” “What is it that I should plan for in life?” “Life itself is glorious enough.
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