For thirty years I have lived alone; but once upon a time I lived among men. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. It was the last thing she felt like drinking. Anna watched her with curious eyes. "Surely," she said, after a pause, "you don't attach any importance to what my mother has just said. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. That suggested delicacy; and yet her young body was strong and vital. "Don't alarm yourself.
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