"Because it's not like you," was her answer. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. Even if you were sick in the mind and did not understand what you were doing, it's a mighty cruel thing you have done. I packed so hurriedly that it will take me a long time to find my things. —Providence, I mean—HAS arranged it so that men will keep you, more or less. The light touch of Ah Cum's hand upon her arm broke the thread of retrospective thought; and her gray eyes began to register again the things she saw. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. He tried to make love to me.
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