And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. I want to shout! I want to sing! I am glad! I am glad to be alive because you are alive! I am glad to be a woman because you are a man! I am glad! I am glad! I am glad! I thank God for life and you. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. How provoking!" she added, pretending to rummage her pockets; "one never can find a thing when one wants it. Shouting to his companion, even as they passed by where I hid myself, he called out that he thought to find you at the convent.
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