. The word "criticism" had no concrete meaning to her then; no more than "compromise. She tested the limits to see how far 79 she could go, often running away for the day, causing him to fret and pace. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. "Married!—no—no," replied the woollen-draper. But, say we're friends. Before a year has expired, you will share the same fate. . A child—as innocent as a child! Nothing about life; bemused by the fairy stories you writers call novels! I don't know what you have done; I don't care.
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