Oh, God!” Rhea sniffed the air through two gaping nostrils that had eroded through her onion skin flesh. “There’s the classes,” said Constance, the well-informed. She hated tricking Shari, whose joy for life was the only thing that made her naive enough to fall for laced iced tea or hot cocoa, depending on the season. It ceased to be the symbol of liberty and a remote and quite abstracted person, and became suddenly and very disagreeably the token of a large and portentous body visible and tangible. It does sound a little horrid to talk so much about oneself and to have views. She floundered deep. A doubt as to your dinner to-morrow would make you miserable to-night.
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