When she stopped sneezing she decided this was the beginning of her new life, her new self, and the new and improved Jullanar was not timid or distracted or wet. She could not do much about her appearance—various acquaintances and sisters at Madame Clancette’s had, to their credit, tried—but if she could not be as popular as Lavinia, or as smart as Maudie, or as accomplished as Nell, or as pretty as Clara, well, at least—Jullanar had decided this at some point in the past day of endless geometric fields—at least she could be a woman of character. She put her book away in the pocket of her
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