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🎮 She examined Joan awhile in silence. “Are you on the stage?” she asked. They looked at one another, and then beyond the sheltering evergreens and the wide lawns to where the great square house seemed to be listening.!

🏆 Facing the mirror of the days to come, she tried it on. It was going to hurt. There was no doubt of that. She saw the fatuous, approving face of the eternal Mrs. Phillips, thrust ever between them, against the background of that hideous furniture, of those bilious wall papers—the loneliness that would ever walk with her, sit down beside her in the crowded restaurant, steal up the staircase with her, creep step by step with her from room to room—the ever unsatisfied yearning for a tender word, a kindly touch. Yes, it was going to hurt. “Oh, why don’t you chuck it,” advised Miss Ensor, “give the Bourgeois a rest.”!

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