There was little fighting spirit here. “Then you—you will?” A long pause. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. ” 189 “Are you feeling okay?” She could feel a parade of ants dotting her skin.
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