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“Oh, you know,” she said. “Don’t they look like a pair of young lovers sleeping off a tryst?” He observed. ” “Really,” she said, with a hard little laugh, “you must regard me as a very goodnatured person. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. “This is Mr. “They make me want to shout,” said Mr. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. No offence, I hope. Promise me. For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere. It's a mighty quare 'un, though.
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