"
"I know what you're thinking about," said Mary; "and don't
you be silly fools. Don't you listen to the lady novelists.
You go down the king's highway; for God's truth, it is God's. Yes,
my dear Michael will often be extremely untidy. Arthur Inglewood
will be worse--he'll be untidy. But what else are all the trees
and clouds for, you silly kittens?"
"The clouds and trees are all waving about," said Rosamund. "There is
a storm coming, and it makes me feel quite excited, somehow. Michael is
really rather like a storm: he frightens me and makes me happy."
"Don't you be frightened," said Mary. "All over, these men
have one advantage; they are the sort that go out."
A sudden thrust of wind through the trees drifted the dying leaves along
the path, and they could hear the far-off trees roaring faintly.
"I mean," said Mary, "they are the kind that look outwards and get interested
in the world. It doesn't matter a bit whether it's arguing, or bicycling,
or breaking down the ends of the earth as poor old Innocent does. Stick to
the man who looks out of the window and tries to understand the world.
Keep clear of the man who looks in at the window and tries to understand you.
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