From the
reflection she let her eyes travel over her body, and noticed that
curves and roundnesses were taking the place of boyish slimness.
"Oh--how _horrible_!" she cried and dimly realized that the change in
her appearance had something to do with the doctor's prediction of
physical disability. She loathed and resented it immediately. Suddenly
conscious of her bare legs she ran home, horrified at the tightness of
her frock that showed the roundness of her figure. As she passed the
Mactavish cottage the mother sat in the doorway, suckling the newest
baby. Instead of staying to talk as usual Marcella flew by, her cheeks
crimson. As soon as she reached home she ran up to her mother's room to
find a frock that was not so tight; tearing an old linen sheet into
strips she wound it round her body like a mummy wrap, so tightly that
she could scarcely breathe, and then, putting on a blouse of her
mother's that was still too tight to please her, she surveyed herself in
the mirror with supreme dissatisfaction.
"I look _horrible_! It's beastly for people's bodies to _show_ like
that," she cried, and, sitting down on the floor, put on the shoes and
stockings she had had for her father's funeral, that hurt her feet. She
ran down to the beach to discuss it with Wullie. Half-way there she
discovered that she could not possibly mention it to anyone.
Pages:
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84