Lily shook her head.
“I am not frightened: that’s not the word. Can you imagine looking into your glass some morning and seeing a disfigurement — some hideous change that has come to you while you slept? Well, I seem to myself like that — I can’t bear to see myself in my own thoughts — I hate ugliness, you know — I’ve always turned from it — but I can’t explain to you — you wouldn’t understand.”
She lifted her head and her eyes fell on the clock.
“How long the night is! And I know I shan’t sleep tomorrow. Some one told me my father used to lie sleepless and think of horrors. And he was not wicked, only unfortunate — and I see now how he must have suffered, lying alone with his thoughts! But I am bad — a bad girl — all my thoughts are bad — I have always had bad people about me. Is that
