From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened. “I mean to,” she replied. ” He sat like a man turned to stone. ’ She sighed relief to see a faint grin as he ventured to raise his head. “Nor am I now,” he answered. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. But with the skill of a fencer he met the blow and broke it, seizing the wrist. I do not think you quite understand my ideals or what is becoming as between father and daughter. Practically it was most of the chief interests in life that she proposed to settle in this pedestrian meditation. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application.
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