She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. Eyebrows knitting, she looked towards the ground a few feet away from him, guiltily. It's my way when I'm ruffled. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. Nothing could occupy her attention long today, unless it concerned her situation. You know not in what dark places my life has been cast; with what crimes it has been stained. Stanley admired and detested him in almost equal measure.
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