Wild of the circumstance. Until two hours ago she was as contented and as happy as a linnet. "Bless your soul! d'ye think I'm to be gammoned by such nonsense. Much too formal for a cosy chat between old friends. “I haven’t seen the new Patience, dear,” she said. Jim is up to the neck in Mahatmas and Theosophy and Higher Thought and rot—writes letters worse than Alice. “By Jove!” he said, “there is something direct about you. I don’t want a family in the suburbs and Christmases at the Florida house and summers at the Hamptons. What is it you’re after? Money, I suppose. “I’ve gotta go. But after that it was easy. They walked in silence. But they cut it all off. Life is so good.
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