“Your brother has gone?” she asked Sydney, between the courses. At last he took up his thoughts again: “I wonder if, some day, one won’t need to rebel against customs and laws? If this discord will have gone? Some day, perhaps—who knows?—the old won’t coddle and hamper the young, and the young won’t need to fly in the faces of the old. While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark. I won’t tolerate any foreign tongue in this house, least of all that confounded French. She was lovely, painted like the porcelain doll he had always wanted her to be.
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