At sunset the swarming abruptly ceased; even the sampans appeared to draw closer together, with the quiet of water-fowl. “Please let me drive you home. I did not have to dig deep in my imagination to create the status-obsessed suburban environment of Lucy’s modern milieu. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am. " "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face. She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat. After that, we'll go our several ways.
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