‘So it was. It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. Even there a woman never gets a fair chance. I figured it would hurt your feelings if you knew I still talked to him, so I kept my mouth shut. ‘You’ll make shadows. There are so many things I want to tell you, and they stand on such different levels, that the effect is necessarily confusing and discordant, and I find myself doubting if I am really giving you the thread of emotion that should run through all this letter. " "Dare not!" echoed the carpenter; "I don't understand you, Joan.
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