She formed a wild resolution, and, lest she should waver from it, she set about at once to realize it. Something about the girl had suggested an idea. He entered it; crossed the room, in which there was only a small truckle-bed, over which he stumbled; opened another door and gained the stair-head. I can't invent; the thing won't come. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. As you admitted to me—one has to square one’s self with the world.
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