Silly that a grocery should depress one--nothing in it but trifling domestic doings--women buying beans--riding children in those grocery go-carts--higgling about an eighth of a pound more or less of squash--what did they get out of it? Miss Willerton wondered. Where was there any chance for self-expression, for creation, for art? All around her it was the same--sidewalks full of people scurrying about with their hands full of little packages and their minds full of little packages--that woman there with the child on the leash, pulling him, jerking him, dragging him away from a window with a jack-o'-lantern in it; she would probably be pulling and jerking him the rest of her life. And there was another, dropping a shopping bag all over the street, and another wiping a child's nose, and up the street an old woman was coming with three grandchildren jumping all over her, and behind them was a couple walking too close for refinement.