Whatever happened she need never return to that possibility. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. He seized a tray, squatted on the floor, and imitated the tom-tom. There were moments when she doubted whether the whole mass of movements and societies and gatherings and talks was not simply one coherent spectacle of failure protecting itself from abjection by the glamour of its own assertions. “A lot of these people will be going presently. . Groups of boys took to ogling her as she walked frenetically from class to class. “It may not be just and so forth, but, after all, it is how things are. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form.
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