But his grief was of short duration. A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. “Well, I don’t think you told him as much as that, did you?” Lady Lescelles asked. Ramage. 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. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. It was not only that her father had said all sorts of inconsistent and unreasonable things, but that by some incomprehensible infection she herself had replied in the same vein. Spurlock stepped into the room. ‘Imbecile. “Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window.
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