ical
anarchist.

"It was painful to me to see these people, who were so humane, who could
not bear to see the lowly oppressed, who could not bear to have
injustice done, to see these people pass me by in insulting silence,
look at me with cold, unsympathetic eyes! How it hurt me, not to receive
the word of encouragement from the kind look of people I looked up to!
So I crawled into my shell and did not go about much with the others. I
think I was forgotten by nearly everybody for days at a time. Terry
shared the room with me, and brought me food, as I grew more and more
unable to eat with the cold superior ones. He brought me tobacco, too,
and here it was, sitting all day alone, that I began the cigarette
habit: if it had not been for that, I think I should have gone mad.

"I never ceased to love Terry, but I had a bitter feeling against him,
too. He was always kind and good to me, but he spent most of his time
with his intellectual friends, and I began to feel that even he was
being 'charitable' to me. So after much misery and despair, I accepted a
proposal of marriage from a friend of my wild days and fled with him to
St. Louis. He took me to the home of his sisters and parents, where I
lived in peace and quiet for three weeks, recovered some of my health
and strength, and was able to review my past and think of my future; and
reflect on my coming marriage.

"The people I was with now were kind and sympathetic. They did not know
about my past life--only my prospective husband knew--he, of course,
knew all. The others thought I was a poor shop-girl, tired and
overworked. They were refined people, fairly well-to-do, rather
bourgeois, but with good hearts, and so innocent that they believed
everything their son told them, and received me as a daughter and
sister.

"Perhaps my nature is perverse, I don't know; but as soon as I got a
little rest and peace, I began to think of what I had left and
especially of Terry. It was not only my love for him that called, but
what my life with him had been and would be if I returned--a life that
was not a commonplace life, a life of intelligence and freedom. Already
I was bored by the quiet goodness of the people I was with, and I wanted
'something doing'!

"I saw Terry again as I had seen him first, with the glamour of ardent
love, the love that overleaps all barriers and, if only for an instant,
stands face to face with love, unhesitating, tumultuous, and triumphant.
The memo