23/52 But it was quiet; it gave her a few minutes alone; and it was endurable, even welcome, on that account. She locked herself in and walked mechanically, with a woman's first impulse in a strange bedroom, to the rickety little table and the dingy little looking-glass. She waited there for a moment, and then turned away with weary contempt. "What does it matter how pale I am ?" she thought to herself. "Frank can't see me--what does it matter now!" She laid aside her cloak and bonnet, and sat down to collect herself. |