” “I can’t imagine what makes you fly out against everything like this,” said Miss Stanley to her niece. ” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. ‘I ain’t done nothing wrong, I swear it. They embarked upon an open and declared friendship. It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. I forget the particulars, but I know it was something very disagreeable.
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