There were moments when she doubted whether the whole mass of movements and societies and gatherings and talks was not simply one coherent spectacle of failure protecting itself from abjection by the glamour of its own assertions. In the middle there was a gate. 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. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. ’ ‘When you begin to tell the truth,’ Gerald told her severely, ‘I shall be happy to believe you. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin.
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