"Love me, love my dog! Because I've scolded him and told him a few truths, you are ice to me. Poor Ben was not so fortunate. That Frenchie, that’s who she is. ” He said, his voice tinged with worry. Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. But she was disturbed, mysteriously disturbed. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. But leave me here in my home, child, I will disintegrate if I am exposed.
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