herself, whereas now she was drifting among those who were not of her social standing. Her unexpected fortune had made everything seem possible. There was an unreality in everything she saw. She scarcely believed in herself.
Now, bending her soft gaze on Delight, she said:
"My landlady" (she could not quite bring herself to say—"I, myself") "My landlady was in the city three weeks ago and she saw Jimmy Sykes at a show with another girl—a little bit of a plump girl with straight black hair. They was both laughing fit to kill."
Fit to kill. . . . The stab that went through Delight's breast was fit to kill. When Pearl had gone, she went to Jimmy's little trunk. She took out the jersey that still was curved to the form of his compact body. With her scissors she snapped a strand of yarn. She began to unravel. . . . Larger and larger grew the mass of crinkled yarn. Small and smaller, the shape of Jimmy, clinging desperately to her hand. At last she stood motionless gazing down at the last strand in her fingers with the fateful look of an Atropos.
