She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. She heard the ocean in the distance, waves crashing on the beach, high tide. She chose to hold her nose. She laughed a little bitterly. It was clear by the look on her face that she decided to leave the house immediately. “Mr. ‘I think that was what began his downfall. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed.
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