” Chapter XIX “THIS IS NOT THE END” “I said some afternoon,” she remarked, throwing open her warm coat, and taking off her gloves, “but I certainly did not mean to-day. I did not have to dig deep in my imagination to create the status-obsessed suburban environment of Lucy’s modern milieu. Even as a child she observed how men were haunted 18 by the presence of her mother. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. So far he had not stirred; from his bloodless lips had come no sound. She had had to do away with many a leering foster father since she had started frequenting foster homes in the middle of the century. It is she that I must see.
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