E. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. “I shouldn’t have waited,” she said. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. He was also, had she known it, more than a little insincere. . "No prize shall indushe me to enter dat horrid plashe again. They are more base then the animals and cannot be suffered to live, do you understand?” She nodded. ‘Certainly this is true,’ she managed.
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