At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. I was at work at it yesterday and the day before. I have no intention of allowing you to depart in a hurry. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. She had all the fascination of being absolutely perplexing in this respect. She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones. ” To which the only possible reply seemed to be, “I’m not coming home.
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