‘Pitiful. It was only a matter of time. "I give you all of my genius, and you say—'Get out!' I am some kind of a dog. Only I do not care to write about anything else. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. Miss Moffatt, the history and moral instruction mistress, was particularly explicit upon this score, and they all agreed in indicating contempt and pity for girls whose minds ran on such matters, and who betrayed it in their conversation or dress or bearing. “But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself. Give me your name, girl!’ ‘Again?’ Mademoiselle rolled her eyes.
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