"I fear not," replied Jack, despondingly. You really ought not to stay here and talk to us. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. Afterward she wanted to get her letter to her father back in order to read it over again, and, if it tallied with her general impression of it, re-write it. The world isn’t ready for girls to start out on their own yet; that’s the plain fact of the case.
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