“I’ve had most of the things I wanted,” said Ramage, in the stillness of the night. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. She observed a man walking on the opposite side of the way and looking toward her. He ignored her protests in order to pursue some impressive line of his own. . Cathy's eyes widened, her cheeks expanding to a smile.
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