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In the winding brick walks of the
Square children were at play with the squirrels and pigeons; and old
men, with gnarled hands and patient hopeless faces, sat warming
themselves in the sunshine on the benches. "Life!" she thought. "That's
life. You can't get away from it." Then one of the old men broke into a
cackle of cheerful laughter, and she added: "After all nobody is ever
pathetic to himself."
"I believe I'll go in," she said, turning to Gershom. "I want to take
off my hat."
He laughed. "Your hat's all right, ain't it? It looks pretty good to
me."
A shiver of aversion ran through her. If only he wouldn't try to be
funny! If only he had been born without that dreadful sense of humour,
she felt that she might have been able to tolerate him.
"Please don't," she replied fretfully.
"Well, I won't, if you'll walk a little slower. I told you I had
something to say to you."
"I don't want to hear it. There's no use talking about it. I'll say the
same thing if you ask me for a hundred years.


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