Mr. They've paid for their lodging. I don’t care! I’m glad I did. There was a gulf of eight years between her and the youngest of her brace of sisters—an impassable gulf inhabited chaotically by two noisy brothers. If you could see how it gives them souls, women who have taken things for granted, who have given themselves up altogether to pettiness and vanity. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. She entered quietly and padded up to her shared bedroom.
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