In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. ’ She turned, her eyes narrowed. “You see, dear, one IS passionately anxious for something—what is it? One wants to be CLEAN. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. At second hand it would be unendurable. They've paid for their lodging. It’s odd how little I know of him, and of how he feels and what he feels. ’ He stopped suddenly, dismay creeping into his face. “You see, daddy, I don’t think it IS preposterous.
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