She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. But it was her proof. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. . “I want to speak to you. Ann Veronica listened thoughtfully, with her eyes on the turf, and now and then she asked a question or looked up to discuss a point. I borrowed forty pounds from Mr.
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