One day I can be a Gothic chick, and the next day I’ll be Hitler Youth. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. “Why?” “I still love you. ” “You are going to speak to me of things which happened before we met in London?” she asked quietly. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. To an unthinking mind the episode would be ordinary, trivial; but to the doctor, who had had plenty of time to think during his sojourn in China, it was basic of the child's unhappiness. She had set out to get a beautiful life, a free, untrammelled life, self-development, without counting the cost either for herself or others.
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