Then I saw Mrs. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. She was very greatly exercised by the two systems of values—the two series of explanations that her comparative anatomy on the one hand and her sense of beauty on the other, set going in her thoughts. They came teeming distressfully through her aching brain: “A man can kick, his skirts don’t tear; A man scores always, everywhere. ” She said, studying his face, which seemed to lose its childishness a little more with each day. Wood. I wonder if some of them did—and it didn’t get reported. Was it VERY horrible? I tried to get into the police-court, but the crowd was ever so much too big, push as I would. I sha'n't cry any more.
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