“Martin's Escape THE TRAIN CLIMBED STEEPLY UP INTO WHAT Miss Dexter said (when she started speaking again) were the Blue Ridge Mountains. But darkness had fallen, and the only thing Violet could see out the window was the reflection of the inside of the train car, two long rows of passengers, mostly women, on red mohair-covered seats, surrounded by their handbags, hatboxes, picnic baskets, valises, and traveling pillows. “I hope you understand I'm not a racialist, Violet,” Miss Dexter was saying... as she unpacked fried chicken, biscuits, and apples from a picnic basket. “Mr. Martin doesn't seem to understand this. He doesn't seem to realize that with everything we women have worked so hard for in the balance, we can't be distracted by every little battle that comes our way.” Mr. Martin had gone to look for something for them to drink. “Can I take some of this to Myrtle?” Violet asked, indicating the meal Miss Dexter was serving out. A few days ago she would have considered it the very height of bad breeding to ask her hostess for more food.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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