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Eleanor got out of the taxi, very early in the morning, trembling because by now, perhaps, her sister and her brother-in-law might be stirring with the first faint proddings of suspicion
“Damn you damn you! I was taking it home, damn you damn you!”
Eleanor crashed into a very little lady, sending packages in all directions, and saw with dismay a bag upset and break on the sidewalk, spilling out a broken piece of cheesecake, tomato slices, a hard roll.
“Good-by, and I'm really very sorry.”
“Perhaps I could pay?”
“That's fine, then, I'll be praying for you, dearie.”
“You may pay my taxi fare home."
Always before, when she had her sister's permission to drive the little car... Today, with her carton on the back seat and her suitcase on the floor, her gloves and pocketbook and light coat on the seat beside her, the car belonged entirely to her, a little contained world all her own; I am really going, she thought.
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