She had once reconciled in her mind that she was happy as long as she had him. 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 was fiercely and bitterly jealous. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. He would pull this young fellow back; but later he knew that he would have to fight the boy's lack of will to live. Lucy was surprised to hear that any party could happen on a week night, but the parents of the house in question were the rich absentee type. Now I’d like the rest of your story. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions.
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