Ann Sterzinger writes:
The next day, however, the husband was at work, and when I got restless I had to go out for a walk alone. I’ve taken many strolls alone in this town, and thought nothing of it. But a few blocks out, a group of men in caftans ran me off the sidewalk and out into the road, muttering about my skirt and my degree of whoreness and laughing quite unpleasantly.
I had briefly thought about whether my skirt might offend before going out, but decided I was being silly and paranoid: it was two inches below the knee, and I was wearing plain black stockings plus thick woolen leg warmers.
