It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. "He's not to blame," said Jack, rising. 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. White caught her eye, and smiled benignly down the table. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable. \"Ohmigod Lucy, you are so uncool. He’s dead. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline. He could imagine it even if he could not feel it.
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