And now her father said she must not go. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. She sat down awkwardly and helplessly on one of the little stools by her table and covered her face with her hands. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. ” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled. ” “I am glad that you have a reasonable excuse for not having been to see me,” she said good-humouredly.
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