It wasn’t clear to me that I had to explain. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. She had been forced to buy herself that pair of boots and a walking-skirt, and the pearl necklace at the pawnbrokers’ had yielded very disappointingly. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. Annabel was conscious then of the slow anger which had been burning within her since the night of her visit to the “Unusual.
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