’ Footsteps sounded just outside, and Captain Roding walked in. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. Perhaps that was the reason why she enjoyed preparing suppers at the Becks. To think of him as loving her would make all that different. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. “Great, Cathy.
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