Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. At last he took up his thoughts again: “I wonder if, some day, one won’t need to rebel against customs and laws? If this discord will have gone? Some day, perhaps—who knows?—the old won’t coddle and hamper the young, and the young won’t need to fly in the faces of the old. ‘Always he is busy about my affairs. The next morning came a compact letter from her father. Down on me luck, I was, and they took me in. "I have a token to deliver to you," continued the stranger, addressing her. A week later the manuscript was polished and typewritten, ready for the test.
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