” “I am afraid,” she murmured, “that it would be difficult. I didn’t allow myself to see things as they were in those days; now I do. “I suppose Paris is very, very distracting. “Oh Christ! How old were you?” “Just—well, I was young. His efforts at self-destruction were, however, prevented. I’m a desperate young woman. ’ Reminiscence made him smile. " "Well, Sir," gasped Mrs. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided.
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