. But out of a belated regard for her father she wrote the surname of some one else. She had but to choose. My late husband, I mean. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. She felt sticky and ashamed when he dropped her off a block away from the McCloskey house as she had requested. . You can scribble if you want to, but after you've given your eight hours daily to the mills. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so.
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