I enjoyed depicting the dichotomy of the peace and safety of the suburbs while also showing its dark side in the form of high school villain Katy Pfister, who, by the way, never gets her comeuppance like some of the other characters do. I have worn it for weeks and weeks. The sing-song girl, seeing Ruth, extended her hands and began to chatter rapidly. But he was at last persuaded that I mean you no harm, and that I might—just possibly, since I am both a gentleman and a major of militia—be able to be of more assistance to you than he himself. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming. If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it.
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