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These thoughts, however, came to a broken end. “Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. "But I dread the effect your departure may have upon your poor mother. “If you come a step nearer to me,” she said, “I will smash every glass on this table. One of your aunts died, I believe, and the other removed to London. When ninety per cent. You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. What a God-forsaken fool he was! And dimly, out there somewhere in the South Seas—the beach! Already he sensed the fascination of the inevitable; and with this fascination came the idea of haste, to get there quickly and have done. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom.
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