She did not want to go to the doctor's people; however kindly that might be, they would be only curious strangers. ‘I am not in the least in a rage. Her normally shiny hair was 143 stringy and flat. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. She was sore with the perplexities of her preposterous position. ‘Don’t even think of it,’ warned Gerald, in the voice generally reserved for his men. She began to think persistently of Capes, and it seemed to her now that for some weeks at least she must have been thinking persistently of him unawares. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story.
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