I had been about as foolish and selfish as a girl could be. There was a wall; she was always encountering it; the one time she was able to break through this wall was when the part in his hair was crooked. Do you remember what I said when you took me at the Mint four days ago? I told you my turn would come. 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. “Certainly her voice is far more musical. “There is my aunt,” she said. He wouldn’t like it if people did it to him.
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