Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. The back of the house had been the Alps for climbing, and the shrubs in front of it a Terai. It is very sweet of you to have waited for me. Briefly explained, she was as the child who discards the rag baby for the living one. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire.
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