did her parents have to bring her to such a dull place?
Life wasn’t worth living here. She might as well be dead. It would be the end of a promising life cheated of-
She sat in the rickety rocking-chair near the window and wondered about the promising life. It hadn’t been very exciting. When she was small she had somehow passed through school year after year. Then she had gone to Miss Blagden’s School and had passed through year after year. For a moment it seemed as though she might some day escape from passing through things year after year by becoming a great singer. But at the end of this rainbow lay—Madame Schneider. And now— more Madame Schneider!
It was all so hopeless. What had she to live for? Well—there was Arnold. Yes, she might live for Arnold. But she didn’t feel the right sort of love for Arnold or for any man. Oh, what might have been if her parents had given her opportunities, if they had introduced her to the right men, if they had permitted that freedom which some of the girls she knew enjoyed! Perhaps it would help to say a prayer to the moon. Perhaps she could work up a spell about the name of Arnold. But again, there was no moon and the stars didn’t inspire her.
She was friendless. Friendless and alone. Why had she never had any girl friends? But the girls in her set never had close friends. Among girls, that is. And Dorothy hadn’t even a real friend among men, unless it was Arnold. Well, yes-Tommy Borge had shown interest, but he—she could never grow excited about Tommy Borge. She just couldn’t; that was all there was to that.
Now, Arnold. She walked about again, as though by
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