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She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. It was time to leave America. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. “To Hell if we don’t change our ways. I shall take to him as nat'ral as if he were my own flesh and blood afore long. "On my return, I found the window open, and the room vacant. You may have something to conceal, you may not. “My friend,” she said, “no! Let me tell you this.
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