It may be instinctive; it may be that children vaguely realize that at the end of all wedding journeys is disillusion. “I am getting plain,” she said, with a little shudder. Do you think that I shall ever make an actress, my friend?” “I doubt it,” he answered bluntly. Wood, when he does return, I'd send him about his business. Their colloquy was ended abruptly by the apparition of Miss Klegg at the further door. And they could talk, they found; and never once, it seemed, did their meaning and intention hitch. It isn’t as though I haven’t done well. He had studied alchemy and astronomy, was a capable painter, and even wrote music.
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