The truth!" we demanded.

"Oh, the truth," she stammered, "the truth has nothing to do with literature," and sitting down she refused to say another word.

It all seemed to us very inconclusive.

“Nancy waded out to her own rocks and searched her own pools and let that couple…”

“I want to dance, laugh, eat pink cakes, yellow cakes, drink thin, sharp wine. O…”

“I’m not clear enough in the head to feel anything but varieties of dull anger a…”

“Our friends - how distant, how mute, how seldom visited and little known. AndI,…”