Valancy walked quickly through the back streets and through Lover’s Lane. She did not want to meet any one she knew. She didn’t want to meet even people she didn’t know. She hated to be seen. Her mind was so confused, so torn, so messy. She felt that her appearance must be the same. She drew a sobbing breath of relief as she left the village behind and found herself on the “up back” road. There was little fear of meeting any one she knew here. The cars that fled by her with raucous shrieks were filled with strangers. One of them was packed with young people who whirled past her singing uproariously:

“My wife has the fever, O then,

My wife has the fever, O then,

My wife has the fever,