"Haven't time," I said, pocketing them as I dashed down the four flights of brass-bound steps from our flat to the entrance.
There was no sign that either of those unopened letters held anything out of the ordinary. In my own mind I had no presentiment of wonder to come. I thought I knew my fate, thanks.
Let this be a lesson to any young woman who thinks the like. For when she is quite, quite sure that "all is over" for her, that is the moment when "All" is preparing to begin.
* * * * * * *
Here I've given you my picture as I was all those weeks ago. Now skip those weeks and see the contrast; the picture of me as I am today. A straight and supple body, all conscious of the Jest of living. Limbs rounded and firm. Face joyous, glowing, and clean-skinned under the tan. Hair glossy and full of gleams; eyes bright as the morning, with the atmosphere of sunshine and clean airs all round me. A new self, in fact, made by a new life. Thousands of girls all over the country at this moment can show the same miracle.
I am going to tell you the story of how it happened to me.
* * * * * * *
I had to rush for my Tube train, only in time to be held up by that exasperating wooden barrier, while the corncrake voice of the official rasped out: "Stand back, there!" And the train did not move out for another good half-minute.
Fuming, I waited on the platform, squashed against that barrier by the crowd who pressed behind me—a crowd who looked nervy and strained, and who—to put it mildly—smelt. Well, any business girl who glances at her light blouse after a day's work in town will know what I mean. I myself must have looked about as cheery as that face one sometimes catches sight of at the small square window of a black prison-van.
The only air and exercise I ever got in those days were in the three hundred yards' walk from our Mansions to the Tube, and in the two minutes' scurry at the other end from the Tube station to the rabbit-warren.