Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from Whither
Her voice trailed off into a soothing, clucking murmur as she led her temperamental cook down the hall. She left in the room a suggestion of scented soap and vigorous perfume, which Zoe found oddly pleasant.
Zoe sat quite still on the bed after Mrs. Horne had left. She was a slender, brown, elfin thing, with slanting brown eyes and sooty lashes. Her hair, black and coarse as an Indian's, was cut short and clung in straggly wisps to her head. Zoe had bobbed it herself only the day before she came to New York. She had been a little disappointed in the result. When it had been long and done up in a more or less tidy knot at the nape of her neck, she had looked like an earnest young student or an assistant librarian. Bobbing it, she had thought to appear unaca demic - even modish, whereas she had looked merely immature. Still, there was an inner feel ing of tolerant sophistication which short hair gave one, and Zoe was glad, on the whole, that she had bobbed hers. It was the suitable gesture for a girl who was breaking off with her family and all the stupidities which Albon represented, for a career in New York.
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