I locked the door as she ordered me and reluctantly returned. She directed me to sit down opposite her and she said, “I really mean it: I wish I were dead. Now if I were you, I wouldn’t wish that, but strictly sotto voce, strictly entre nous I wouldn’t predict what you’ll be feeling if you go on living with Aunt Lucy for another two years.”

“Well,” I said, “it’s not quite the same thing. It’s not the same at all, Hope.”

“Listen to me, you child, you baby, you innocent little girl: the time will come when you see through that woman and know her for the bitch she is. It’s that she’s got to have power. All of us do here: we are obsessed by it. Philip is. I am. As soon as Aunt Lucy saw she couldn’t control me—up to a point she could because she was my guardian and doled out my money nickel by nickel—she got a cat! That’s the vile perverted thing she did! And kept the cat locked up in a storeroom deodorized by pine-scent! Oh, she fed Mercy well: the best tinned salmon, the finest kidneys, the richest milk, and every now and again the ‘Persian fat lady,’ as she was revoltingly referred to, was allowed to come down and purr for Aunt Sarah and Uncle Arthur and Admiral Nephews. Until, mind you, she had a chance to perpetuate her species and have four hybrid kittens and then she was permanently incarcerated.”

“Oh, that’s not the reason,” I said, determined to defend Miss Pride.

“Hush! Let me finish. But a pussy-cat wasn’t enough, and now she’s got you, and she intends to have the time of her life with you because you’re helpless. You’re dependent on her. No matter what gaffe you make, if you get drunk and use obscene words in front of Mrs. Frothingham, Aunt Lucy will find some way to keep you.”

“I am not property!” I cried, angry with Hopestill and at the same time perturbed.

“Well, dear, that’s beside the point. All of this is beside the point. I’ll have a drink if you’ll pour it for me, please, and tell you what isn’t beside the point.” I filled our two glasses. I was muzzy and out-of-sorts with this oblique diatribe. “What isn’t beside the point,” she continued, “is that all I’ve accomplished today, all I’ve accomplished in my whole life, is that I’ve transferred myself from one martinet to another.”

“You didn’t have to marry him.”

She got to her feet and glared at me. “I’m sure I don’t know why I’ve taken you into my confidence, and you can jolly well forget this. Now I’m going to dress.”