“I mean to go to that dance!” she blubbered. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. And my word's law—with you, at least," she added, bestowing a cutting glance upon her husband. “Anything is better than this—this stifled life down here. “Yes. You know very well that you took from my easel David Courtlaw’s study of me, and sent it to Cariolus. 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. It seemed to them they could never have been really alive before, but only dimly anticipating existence.
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