Nevertheless the bitterness of her morning had died, and she thanked God for some vitality in her that allowed her to cast off ugliness. Otherwise she’d have long ago been dead. She guessed she had that magnanimity of mind that Shakespeare must have possessed—the ability to come through any situation, understand it, but retain intact the integrity of her soul. What had she learned overseas? To forgive. She lifted her arms with a soft smile and lit a cigarette.
