It certainly looked respectable. In 1900, around the time her brother Freddie was admitted to the asylum and her younger siblings were still living at home with their parents, Muriel married the son of a prominent Kingston clergyman.
Six years later, they were divorced. "I only wish to God he was dead," Muriel wrote to her mother, "with his lying drinking ways...Love to all, and just longing to see you tomorrow."
Muriel would stop at home long enough to drop off her 2-year old daughter. Her parents would raise the child themselves.
Meanwhile, Muriel had her sights set on New York City. "If you would just lend me that little fur," she begged her mother, "and lend me grandma's muff, till I come back. I hate to go down without any furs."
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