Your time isn't come yet. She had a compartment to herself in the train from London to Morningside Park, and she sat with both her feet on the seat in an attitude that would certainly have distressed her mother to see, and horrified her grandmother beyond measure; she sat with her knees up to her chin and her hands clasped before them, and she was so lost in thought that she discovered with a start, from a lettered lamp, that she was at Morningside Park, and thought she was moving out of the station, whereas she was only moving in. Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. At the gate opening upon the road leading to Dollis Hill were stationed William Morgan and John Dump. She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. ” She looked at him, pleading, miserable in her fancy gown. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. It was a second reminder that against her claim to go free and untrammelled there was a case to be made, that after all it was true that a girl does not go alone in the world unchallenged, nor ever has gone freely alone in the world, that evil walks abroad and dangers, and petty insults more irritating than dangers, lurk. ‘We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it.
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