When he found himself thinking about it, it upset him so that he at once resorted to distraction. “I suppose you know I like you tremendously?” he pursued. He had, he felt, to create certain ideas and vivify certain curiosities and feelings in her. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. I hated the stuff. The blades on the top spun faster and faster. Wherever I saw him, I should pick him out as a man designed by nature to plan and accomplish the wonderful escapes he has effected. It is a lovely little appendage to the mother who smiles over it, and it does things quaintly like her, gestures with her very gestures. “I don’t know why.
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