" "As many as you please," replied Wood, walking towards the chimney-piece, and taking down a constable's, staff, which hung upon a nail. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. “You’re getting too old to put things off, John. Everything, Miss Miniver said, was “working up,” everything was “coming on”—the Higher Thought, the Simple Life, Socialism, Humanitarianism, it was all the same really. But a far greater affliction was in store for her. Why do I want him so badly? Why do I want him, and think about him, and fail to get away from him? “It isn’t all of me.
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