Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. Lucy could sense her mental resolution to nip Michelle’s burgeoning obsession with the occult in the bud. She felt his crotch through his jeans. Only in her eyes there seemed to be some apprehension of the fact that the young man’s clothes and manners were alike undesirable things. To Capes he was almost deferential, and she had never seen him deferential in the old time, never. Easy enough. I don’t see what you can have to say. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. She never even graduated high school, and that has been a thorn in her side ever since.
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