"The feeling of relinquishment in here was foul as a rat-trap and stiff and relentless there like a dried bouquet. This is what becomes of idleness, she thought in anger. She wanted the whole summer back again to make it all anew. Why am I having these bunches of old lavender, these dried knots of garlic infecting the thoughts I have? Why this chop suey mess of uncertainty in me?"
Written originally in 1930, this was published by Virago in 1981, and the same cover has been used for two different editions. I own the earlier one (top)
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