Do you understand?” “I do not,” he answered. “I have made no arrangements as yet— none at all. The ticket line filtered slowly into the glass doors, growing louder and more boisterous by the minute. During her school days, especially her earlier school days, the world had been very explicit with her, telling her what to do, what not to do, giving her lessons to learn and games to play and interests of the most suitable and various kinds. “Well,” she said, “good-night, father. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers.
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