” She laughed. “The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed. She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago. ’ ‘And me,’ came the guttural response, ‘I will certainly murder you the very next time I am compelled to see your face. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world.
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