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Updated: June 29, 2025
She walked on, but more slowly, for the tobacconist's shop was not far from her now and, beyond it, that portal of doom, Frincke's Business College. Already Alice could read the begrimed gilt letters of the sign; and although they had spelled destiny never with a more painful imminence than just then, an old habit of dramatizing herself still prevailed with her.
Next to the door of the tobacco-shop, there was the open entrance to a stairway, and, above this rather bleak and dark aperture, a sign-board displayed in begrimed gilt letters the information that Frincke's Business College occupied the upper floors of the building.
She passed the tobacconist's, and before her was that dark entrance to the wooden stairway leading up to Frincke's Business College the very doorway she had always looked upon as the end of youth and the end of hope.
Their laughter was for the encouragement of snappy young men of the stores and offices down-town, clerks, bookkeepers, what not some of them probably graduates of Frincke's Business College. Then, as she recalled that dark portal, with its dusty stairway mounting between close walls to disappear in the upper shadows, her mind drew back as from a doorway to Purgatory.
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