Clover checks her bag and hat.
Clover: Well then...
Clover: I have my hat, my cloak, my crane bag...

Clover wrings the shoulder strap of her bag nervously.
Clover: I suppose...
Clover: It's time to leave.

Clover looks up at the outside of her house, holding her key.
Clover: Farewell, house.
Clover: I don't know when I'll return, but when I do, I shall be changed, in big ways or small.