"Come, come," he repeated impatiently.
They walked away then through the pretty winding lane.
"It seems to me so awful that we are all so hopeless," Emily went on presently. "We are all put here and often see just what should be done and can't do it possibly."
"I do exactly what I choose," said Lorenzo,—then he added: "as a usual thing."
"You must be very happy." She paused. "I suppose that you have plenty of money to live as you please."
"I'm fortunate enough not to have any."
"Goodness!" the exclamation was sincere. The shock to Emily was dreadful. "Why do you call that fortunate?" she asked, after a little hasty agony of downfall as to rich and generous travel, spaced off by going to the theater.
"Because it makes me know that I shall do something in the world. A very little money is enough to swamp a man nowadays, when the idea of later being supported by a woman is always a possibility. Oh," said Lorenzo, with sudden irritation, "if there weren't so many perfectly splendid women and girls in the world, I'd go off and become a Trappist. Everything's being knocked into a cocked hat. I've had girls practically make love to me. Disgusting."
Emily felt her heart hammer hard. "You're very old-fashioned in your views," she said, a little faintly.
They came out by her mother's back gate as she spoke.