Cornelia thought that perhaps Mr. Ludlow would feel it due to Mrs.
Burton to come and ask how she was getting on; but if she did not wish
him to come she had reason to be glad, for the whole week passed, and
she did not see him, or hear anything from him. She did not blame him,
for she had been very uncouth, and no doubt he had done his whole duty
in meeting her at the depot, and seeing her safely housed the first
night. She wished to appreciate his kindness, and when she found
herself wondering a little at his not caring to know anything more
about her, she made much of it. If it was not all that she could have
imagined from his offer to be of use to her in any way he could, she
reminded herself that he had made that offer a very long time ago, and
that she never meant to use him. Beside, she was proud of having made
her start alone, and she knew which way she wished to go, though the
way seemed so hard and long at times. She was not sure that all the
students at the Synthesis were so clear as to their direction, but they
all had the same faith in the Synthesis and its methods. They hardly
ever talked to her of anything else, and first and last they talked a
good deal to her. It was against the rules to loiter and talk in the
corridors, as much against the rules as smoking; but every now and then
you came upon a young man with a cigarette, and he was nearly always
talking with a group of girls. At lunch-time the steps and window-seats
were full, and the passages were no longer thoroughfares. After the
first day Cornelia came out with the rest; Charmian Maybough said that
one could not get into the spirit of the Synthesis unless one did; and
in fact those who wished to work and those who would rather have
played, as it seemed to her, met there in the same aesthetic equality.
She found herself acquainted with a great many girls whose names she
did not know, in the fervor of the common interest, the perpetual glow
of enthusiasm which crowned the severest ordeals of the Synthesis with
the halo of happy martyrdom if not the wreath of victory.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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