The social worker seized her arm. "It's a disgrace to come to such a state . . . If you society girls had something to do besides indulging your desires and chasing pleasures, you wouldn't be wandering drunk as a tramp, at this hour of the night . . . if you stopped living for your own enjoyment, stopped thinking of yourself and found some higher--"
Then the girl screamed--and the scream went beating against the blank walls of the street as in a chamber of torture, an animal scream of terror. She tore her arm loose and sprang back, then screamed in articulate sounds:
"No! No! Not your kind of world!"
Then she ran, ran by the sudden propulsion of a burst of power, the power of a creature running for its life, she ran straight down the street that ended at the river--and in a single streak of speed, with no break, no moment of doubt, with full consciousness of acting in self-preservation, she kept running till the parapet barred her way and, not stopping, went over into space.
The Death of Cherryl Taggart, AS, hardcover p. 907-908
While I appreciate the accuracy of the stereotype, there are some social workers who are excellent therapists and who really help people take care of themselves FIRST, and probably put the spacey Birkenstock-wearing types to shame. Like THIS ex-mortgage broker, for example.
I was always kinda sorry Cheryl didn’t divorce Jim and marry Eddie Willers.