Backwater by Dorothy M. Richardson — Read

When Miriam sat talking everything over with the Pernes at supper, on the first night of the term, detached forever from the things that engrossed them, the schoolwork, Julia Doyle's future, the peculiarities of the visiting teachers, the problem of the "unnatural infatuation" of two of the boarders with each other, the pros and cons of a revolutionary plan for taking the girls in parties to the principal London museums, she made the most of her triumphant assertion that she had absolutely nothing in view. She found herself decorously waiting, armed at all points, through the silent interval while the Pernes took in the facts of her adventurous renunciation. She knew at once that she would have to be desperately determined. But after all they could not do anything with her.

Sitting there, in the Perne boat, still taking an oar and determined to fling herself into the sea. she ought not to have told them she was leaving them just desperately, without anything else in prospect; because they were so good, not like employers. They would all feel for her. It was just like speaking roughly at home. Well, it was done. She glanced about. Miss Haddie, across the table behind her habitual bowl of bread and milk had a face -- the face of a child surprised by injustice. "I was right -- I was right," Miriam gasped to herself as the light flowed in. "I'm escaping -- just in time. Emotional tyranny. What a good expression. that's the secret of Miss Haddie. It was awful. She's lost me. I'm free. Emotional tyranny. ". "My hat, Mirry, you're beyond me. How much do you charge for that one. Say it again," she seemed to hear Gerald's friendly voice. Go away Gerald. True. True. All the truth and meaning of her friendship with Miss Haddie in one single flash.