Kate hid in her own house, numbed. She could not bear to talk to people. She could not bear even Juana’s bubbling discourse. The common threads that bound her to humanity seemed to have snapped. The little human things didn’t interest her any more. Her eyes seemed to have gone dark, and blind to individuals. They were all just individuals, like leaves in the dark, making a noise. And she was alone under the trees.
The egg-woman wanted six centavos for an egg.
“And I said to her—I said to her—we buy them at five centavos!” Juana went on.
“Yes!” said Kate. She didn’t care whether they were bought at five or fifty, or not bought at all.
She didn’t care, she didn’t care, she didn’t care. She didn’t even care about life any more. There was no escaping her own complete