Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. You don’t understand, Lucy, they just aren’t like that. Then he slapped his hand on his desk and looked up with the air of a man struck by a brilliant idea. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. ” “Have I done something wrong? Should I take you home?” “No. “Why did you lie to that man?” he asked fiercely. Until that was done a certain experience of life assured him that a girl is a locked coldness against a man’s approach.
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