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Not one thought entered my head that did not seem disloyal. I was ashamed, seeing their pride close up, as if for the first time, at how little I had accomplished, how much I had failed to do at St. Paul’s. Somewhere in the last two years I had forgotten my mission. What had I done, I kept thinking, that was worthy of their faith? How had I helped my race? How had I prepared myself for a meaningful future? … They were right: only a handful of us got this break. I wanted to shout at them that I had squandered it. Now that it’s all over, hey, I’m not your girl! I couldn’t do it.
