I did not have to dig deep in my imagination to create the status-obsessed suburban environment of Lucy’s modern milieu. ‘Now you see why it is I no longer require the proof of which I have spoken. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom. Young people ignore them until they find themselves up against them. Manning, her aunt and father, neighbors, customs, traditions, forces. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. "He says he don't understand flash," replied the lady in gentleman's attire.
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