Out of all this we have struck a sort of harmony. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child.
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