167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. ’ ‘Who was to know if you would find your place?’ countered Martha. ’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him. This accident rather confirms than checks my purpose. I am an independent sort of person,” she continued, “and I am engaged in an attempt to earn my own living. ” They left the restaurant just as the rain slowed to a dull trickle, the fury of the storm exhausted, having left mirror puddles in its wake. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year.
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