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Updated: May 1, 2025
This is the tradgic story. Tom had gone to the station, feeling repentant probably, or perhaps wishing to drive the Arab, and finding me not yet there, had conversed with the hackman. And that person, for whom I have nothing but contempt and scorn, had observed to him that every day I met a young gentleman at the three-thirty train and took him for a ride! Could Mendasity do more?
Need I explain that I had no serious intention of taking the fatal step? But it was not deliberate mendasity. It was Despair. Mother actually went white. She cluched me by the arm and shook me. "What are you saying?" she demanded. "I think you heard me, mother" I said, very politely. I was however thinking hard. "Marry whom? Barbara, answer me." "I don't know. Anybody."
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