“But you seem to think,” she said, “that everything nice spoils your hand.”
“I don’t think. It’s the law,—just the same as it was at Mrs. Jennett’s.
Everything that is nice does spoil your hand. I’m glad you see so clearly.”
“I don’t like the view.”
“Nor I. But—have got orders: what can do? Are you strong enough to face it alone?”
“I suppose I must.”
“Let me help, darling. We can hold each other very tight and try to walk straight. We shall blunder horribly, but it will be better than stumbling apart. Maisie, can’t you see reason?”
“I don’t think we should get on together. We should be two of a trade, so we should never agree.”
“How I should like to meet the man who made that proverb! He lived in a cave and ate raw bear, I fancy. I’d make him chew his own arrow-heads.
Well?”