” His face darkened. “You!” she exclaimed. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. ” Diane’s voice resonated up the stairs. “Will you tell Sydney that I will see him in the morning,” he said. There you will be, in an inner temple. “Well,” she said. " "Here you have it, my dear," returned the hawker. Here again instinct guided her. Then fury claimed her and she could no longer pretend. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. I would like to talk to you about this—soon. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere.
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