I had to sell out, you see, when my father died, for the estate is in my hands. “There is one thing I must concentrate on at the moment,” she told herself, “and that is how to pay my next week’s bill to Mrs. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. Even our coarseness. Yes; she had heard the music the night before. A sudden knock at the door startled her.
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