It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. She observed the tides, amazed by how high the water could rise, almost touching the tops of the cliffs. . In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. She had eaten little or no tea, and her mid-day meal had been worse than nothing.
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