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. When she came to school on Friday, she almost tripped twice going up the stairs. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. Lucy grabbed its handle, her broken bones mending inside her causing her to wince in pain. Most of the horses were dead, all but three stallions and two mares left among what was once a thriving stable.
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