Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. Much too formal for a cosy chat between old friends. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. Presently she woke up to the fact that there was a considerable group of interests called being in love and getting married, with certain attractive and amusing subsidiary developments, such as flirtation and “being interested” in people of the opposite sex. She went next day to the schools, and her world seemed all made of happiness just worked up roughly into shapes and occasions and duties. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig.
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