Explore, venture, achieve, live—demand Truth, exact it, face it, and know!—the mighty, voiceless cry of the World’s Youth—claiming freedom to seek, liberty to live, fearless, untrammelled, triumphant. A terrible indictment of Age, and of those age-governed æons which forever have passed away.
Already the older, duller generation caught the vast vibration of young hearts beating to arms, young voices swelling the tremulous, universal cry of insurgence, a clear, ceaseless, sea-like sound of laughter proclaiming the death of Sham—ringing an endless, silvery requiem.
Odell shoved up his spectacles and lowered the newspaper to glance at Eris.
“What say?” he repeated fretfully.
“I’d like to study dancing.”
“Can’t you dance? You go to enough socials and showers ’n’one thing ’n’other.”
“I mean—stage dancing.”
“Stage!” he thundered. “Be you crazy?”
“Why, Eris, how you talk!” said her stepmother, too astounded to laugh.