CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. He hated travelling second-class with her—indeed, he never did—but he also disliked travelling in the same train when his daughter was in an inferior class, because of the look of the thing. She ran through the backyards of Pinecrest subdivision, piano wire and a slim jim tucked into her pantyhose. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. “Anna,” he said, “you make it all indescribably hard for me. "You've got to kill me to get out of here alive.
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