When he was done she kissed his cheek tenderly. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. But about the unknown Englishman she was not so satisfied. The window was shortly after opened, and a rope ladder, with a lighted horn lantern attached to it, let down. “They ought to have been lopped in the spring. That would be an unkind twist of fate. It was the grand nursery of vice. I believe I’m in love.
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