“I am afraid,” she answered, “that one’s friends can judge only of the externals, and the things which matter, the things inside are realized only by oneself— stop. You are nothing of the sort. At any rate, here I am, and here I shall be, twenty thousand feet above all your poison-reeking cities, up where God’s wind comes fresh from heaven, very near indeed to the untrodden snows. I must take you to the Suffrage people, and the Tolstoyans, and the Fabians. Gosse cursed him finely, of course, but there was nothing he could do. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. ” She said fretfully.
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