"I wish I knew something about art!" he said discontentedly. "And why should anybody want to be independent all their lives—economically independent?"
He slowly repeated the words, evidently from another mouth, in a land of wonder.
"That's the young woman of to-day, Harry."
"Isn't it better to be happy?" he broke out, and then was silent.
"Harry!—you didn't propose to her?"
He laughed out.
"Propose to her! As if I dare! I haven't even made friends with her yet—though I thought I had. She talks of things I don't understand."
"Not philosophy and stuff?"
"Lord, no!" he said, shrugging his shoulders. "It's much worse. It's as though she despised—" He paused again.
"Courting?" said his mother at last, her head against his shoulder.