" "What kind?" "Dickens, Hugo. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. At this gate two paths meet. " "Hum!" said Hogarth, looking fixedly at him. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. Not my affair, of course, but I think we ought to teach them more or restrain them more. Melusine tilted her head to catch sight of her neck, and froze, staring at the image. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech.
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