“It’s because I mean to send it back altogether,” she said. ‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. A few short, dark locks, escaping from beneath her head-dress, showed that her hair had been removed, and had only been recently allowed to grow again. When I am leading a true life, a pure and simple life free of all stimulants and excitements, I think—I think— oh! with pellucid clearness; but if I so much as take a mouthful of meat—or anything—the mirror is all blurred. Profligate women are never reclaimed. And here she was—in a mess because it had been impossible for her to avoid leaning upon another man. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town.
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