’ ‘Perfectly correct, my boy. His shoulders relaxed and his gaze wavered. She was standing there, smiling at the audience as at her friends. Neither your aunt nor I have any other thought but what is best for you. “That’s what you’re going to wear. “Oh, yes,” the stranger remarked good-humouredly. Horrible memories of things seen beneath the microscope of the baser forms of life crawled across her mind and set her shuddering with imagined irritations. You must remember, you've just begun to read; you haven't any comparisons. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. CHAPTER II. "These writer chaps are queer birds. She came to befriend the female mistresses, some who were even so audacious as to bring their children into the house.
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