Look in the small hide-bound book that he keeps in his boot. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. 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. ’ Jack blinked. I’m too young 117 for this to sound right. ‘It must be painful. They found a cosy little table in the tea-rooms, and everything was delicious. ” “Go ahead. gutenberg. .
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