But that doesn't change the
fact that the situation again is mine. I am in a position now to demand
fairer terms than I was--then. I return to work to-morrow only on those
terms, Mr. Visigoth."
The veil of light from the sign fell upon her in the rigidity of her
pose and pallor. For some reason she was hugging one of the book-shaped
letter files, all the black out in her eyes.
He sat down, straddling the chair, his arms across the back and his chin
down upon them.
"Who are you?" he said, regarding her with the intense squint of one in
need of glasses.
She felt her power over the moment, and with her old slant for it began
to dramatize.
"I'm the grist being ground between yesterday and to-day. Sometimes I
think I must be some sort of an unfinished symphony which it will take
another generation to complete. I am a river and I long to be a sea. I
must be the grape between the vine of my family and the wine of my
progeny. That's it, I'm the grape fermenting!"
Then she felt absurd and looked absurd and stood there with the quick
fizzing spurt of exultation died down into a state of bathos.
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