” “You have no right at all,” she answered coldly. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. ’ Joan nodded, her face still averted. Come along home, Ruth. We quickly drew up the documentation and made living arrangements for you and I. Rather would I have gone with Leonardo—and he wished me to do so. Why wasn't the world full of love, when love made happiness? Why did people hide their natural kindliness as if it were something shameful? Why shouldn't people say what they thought and act as they were inclined? Why all this pother about what one's neighbour thought, when this pother was not energized by any good will? Why was truth avoided as the plague? Why did this young man have one name on the hotel register and another on his lips? Why was she bothering about him at all? Why should there be this inexplicable compassion, when the normal sensation should have been repellance? Sidney Carton.
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