” “Sooner or later. They WERE weird. “Then I don’t take this as final. A child—as innocent as a child! Nothing about life; bemused by the fairy stories you writers call novels! I don't know what you have done; I don't care. Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat. She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. Wild is incapable of such baseness. ‘She’s perfectly right.
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