I’m a little tired. “Won’t you give me your address?” She shook her head. "I don't know what I think," Wood answered sulkily; and he bent his eyes upon the water, as if he wished to avert his attention forcibly from the scene. “I want,” he said, with a white hand outstretched, “to take you out to tea. How old are you?” She asked. Mutual concessions!—and then to turn it around so that it suggested that an act of kindness might be interpreted as moral obloquy! Walls; queer, invisible walls that receded whenever she reached out, but that still remained between her and what she sought. He had set out to win her, and she had let him start. Small blame to her. I was compelled to run away. I've often regretted that I didn't investigate the matter.
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