Yet an indiscriminating, wrong-headed world gave such fellows all sorts of distinctions. “Katy Pfister. “Morning, Mom. That’s who you ought to go and see, miss. The crowning aspect of the incident, for her mind, was the discovery that he and her indiscretion with him no longer mattered very much. Oh, I’ve loved love, dear! I’ve loved love and you, and the glory of you; and the great time is over, and I have to go carefully and bear children, and—take care of my hair—and when I am done with that I shall be an old woman. “You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman.
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