What was she saying?)
"I wonder how far you are willing to help me?" Confoundedly hard
to answer a question like that on the spur of the moment, without
steering wildly. "You may rely--" said Mr. Hoopdriver, recovering
from a violent wabble. "I can assure you-- I want to help you
very much. Don't consider me at all. Leastways, consider me
entirely at your service." (Nuisance not to be able to say this
kind of thing right.)
"You see, I am so awkwardly situated."
"If I can only help you--you will make me very happy--" There was
a pause. Round a bend in the road they came upon a grassy space
between hedge and road, set with yarrow and meadowsweet, where a
felled tree lay among the green. There she dismounted, and
propping her machine against a stone, sat down. "Here, we can
talk," she said.
"Yes," said Mr. Hoopdriver, expectant.
She answered after a little while, sitting, elbow on knee, with
her chin in her hand, and looking straight in front of her. "I
don't know--I am resolved to Live my Own Life."
"Of course," said Mr. Hoopdriver. "Naturally."
"I want to Live, and I want to see what life means. I want to
learn. Everyone is hurrying me, everything is hurrying me; I want
time to think."
Mr. Hoopdriver was puzzled, but admiring. It was wonderful how
clear and ready her words were. But then one might speak well
with a throat and lips like that. He knew he was inadequate, but
he tried to meet the occasion. "If you let them rush you into
anything you might repent of, of course you'd be very silly.
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