“I have been trying to make out, Archie, why water is such a lovely thing. Why is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Nor I. It is the one thing in nature which has moods for me,—I mean many moods. Then it is the one natural thing which has something like laughter.”
“Time writes no wrinkles, etc.,” cried Rose.
“And it has no memory or record of its works. Is that part of its seeming joyousness? And never—never is in straight lines.”
“Rather obvious that, Anne.”
“But it wasn’t obvious to me a half-hour ago. I am pleased with my discovery. Don’t tell me Ruskin has said it. I know he has not, or if he has, he had no business to have said it, and you can’t patent ideas.”
“But Anne—” Lyndsay began.
“Don’t, Archie. I am not to be contradicted to-day.”
“I was going to agree with you”; and he laughed. “May not a fellow even agree with you?”