Then she got out and dried herself, and then put on her night-gown, and cleaned her teeth last thing, and then went back into the double room, in which the presence of the other bed made her feel that she was sleeping with the unhappy ghost of herself.
Then Miss Roach – this slave of her task-master, solitude – had to choose which bed she was going to sleep in, and chose the one nearest the window, and then got into bed and stared at the ceiling, and then decided that they were heavenlily comfortable beds anyway and that was all that mattered, and it was lovely and quiet and that was all that mattered, too. And then she decided that she felt like sleeping, and would probably have a good night and so everything was all right, in fact very nice. And then she realised that it would be a bad thing if she didn’t have a good night as she had to be up early in the morning looking for somewhere to live, and then, of course, she had to go to the office, because Mr. Lindsell had said ‘See you tomorrow’ when he had left her, not realising that she had to look for somewhere to live. And then she thought she might phone Mr. Lindsell, and ask if she need not go, and then she thought that this might offend him after all his kindness, and then she was sure it wouldn’t because he was a nice man, and then this thing, and then that matter, and then this thing again, until at last she put out the light, and turned over, and adjusted the pillow, and hopefully composed her mind for sleep – God help us, God help all of us, every one, all of us.
THE END
The Slaves of Solitude Page 27