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struck her hand that was carrying her bag; bruising her。 As it
rolled away she saw that it was a potato。 Her hand was hurt; but
she gave no sign。 Soon she would take the tram。
She was afraid; and strange。 It was to her quite strange and
ugly; like some dream where she was degraded。 She would have
died rather than admit it to anybody。 She could not look at her
swollen hand。 Something had broken in her; she had passed a
crisis。 Williams was beaten; but at a cost。
Feeling too much upset to go home; she rode a little farther
into the town; and got down from the tram at a small tea…shop。
There; in the dark little place behind the shop; she drank her
tea and ate bread…and…butter。 She did not taste anything。 The
taking of tea was just a mechanical action; to cover over her
existence。 There she sat in the dark; obscure little place;
without knowing。 Only unconsciously she nursed the back of her
hand; which was bruised。
When finally she took her way home; it was sunset red across
the west。 She did not know why she was going home。 There was
nothing for her there。 She had; true; only to pretend to be
normal。 There was nobody she could speak to; nowhere to go for
escape。 But she must keep on; under this red sunset; alone;
knowing the horror in humanity; that would destroy her; and with
which she was at war。 Yet it had to be so。
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