She had never felt so acutely the desire for free initiative, for a life unhampered by others. She was glad to join in the stream of hurrying homeward workers that was now welling out of a thousand places of employment, and to imitate their driven, preoccupied haste. I must go to-night, or I shall never behold him again. "Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples. She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. Immeasurable disgust possessed her. “I’m sorry! Mary! Are you hurt?” “No. Lead the lad to suppose that he'll be introduced to Lady Trafford. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness. The distinction lay chiefly in the right to pat their heads.
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