He had come to Anna’s rooms from a dinner party, and he was in evening dress. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. Somebody to depend upon her; somebody to have need of her, if only for a little while.
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