" Silence. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. The plank hung over his head. She had come to the end of her resources. Part 6 He became quite sure, by a sort of accumulation of reflection, as the day wore on. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. "Why can't I?" "You will be compromised. ” “I will have your reason for this,” he said. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. She cried as he watched, frozen to the ground. “Shhh. The fashions of the day have become antiquated. “Think how dumb we find ourselves and stifled! I know we seem to have a sort of freedom. The delay was only momentary. Only the next of kin.
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