She had studied quality in food and in
clothing, and thus she had discovered what enormous sums are
wasted through ignorance--wasted by poor even more lavishly
than by rich or well-to-do, because the shops where the poor
dealt had absolutely no check on their rapacity through the
occasional canny customer. She had learned the fundamental
truth of the material art of living; only when a good thing
happens to be cheap is a cheap thing good. Spenser,
cross-examining her as to how she passed the days, found out
about this education she was acquiring. It amused him. "A
waste of time!" he used to say. "Pay what they ask, and don't
bother your head with such petty matters." He might have
suspected and accused her of being stingy had not her
generosity been about the most obvious and incessant trait of
her character.
She was now reduced to an income below what life can be
decently maintained upon--the life of a city-dweller with
normal tastes for cleanliness and healthfulness. She proceeded
without delay to put her invaluable education into use. She
must fill her mind with the present and with the future. She
must not glance back. She must ignore her wounds--their aches,
their clamorous throbs. She took off her clothes, as soon as
Mrs. Tucker left her alone, brushed them and hung them up, put
on the thin wrapper she had brought in her bag. The fierce
heat of the little packing-case of a room became less
unendurable; also, she was saving the clothes from useless
wear.
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