The Song of the Lark

p. 300

Thea Kromberg reflects on her little attic bedroom to which she had always escaped: ‘This would be her last summer in that room. Its services were over. Its time was done . . . She was not ready to leave her little shell . . . . She would never be able to think anywhere else or have such dreams in any other bed . . . When she went away from it for good, she would leave something that she could never recover; memories of pleasant excitement, of happy adventures in her mind; of warm sleep on howling winter nights, and joyous awakenings on summer mornings.”