"But it's not," replied Barbara, and a smile played about her lips. He was only a big boy, after all.
"Everything seems to be smaller and shabbier."
"Things," said Barbara, "grow old like men and women."
"Yes, I know, but—I can't seem to say things the way I want to. I've been in the woods all day tramping and thinking; it's done me a lot of good, but—I guess I won't talk about myself any longer."
"But I am interested," said Barbara, earnestly, and then added, quickly, "in anybody who is perplexed."
"Thank you, but at present I'm nobody. I have yet to earn the right to be anybody, much less somebody."
"Very well, if you insist we will drop Mr. Flint."
"I wish that we could drop him out of sight for good," said Will, bitterly.
"What a wicked thought."