Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. Melusine did not attempt to speak. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. It is not well that a daughter should talk to her father as Ruth talked to hers that day. I’m not a bit afraid of anything—scandal, difficulty, struggle. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes. They chatted pleasantly as he drove around the neighborhood for a half an hour, then stopped by the Diedermayer house. Of course. I offered myself as a clerk, as a milliner, as a shop girl.
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