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           "Don’tmakemeoutsuchalight-weight,Clara;youaredepressingsometimes."

           "You’renotalight-weight,ofallthings,"shesaidintently,takinghisarmandopeningwidehereyes—hecouldseetheirkindlinessinthefadingdusk."Alight-weightisaneternalnay."

           "There’ssomuchspringintheair—there’ssomuchlazysweetnessinyourheart."

           Shedroppedhisarm.

           "You’reallfinenow,andIfeelglorious.Givemeacigarette.You’veneverseenmesmoke,haveyou?Well,Ido,aboutonceamonth."

           AndthenthatwonderfulgirlandAmoryracedtothecornerliketwomadchildrengonewildwithpale-bluetwilight.

           "I’mgoingtothecountryforto-morrow,"sheannounced,asshestoodpanting,safebeyondtheflareofthecornerlamp-post."Thesedaysaretoomagnificenttomiss,thoughperhapsIfeelthemmoreinthecity."

           "Oh,Clara!"Amorysaid;"whatadevilyoucouldhavebeeniftheLordhadjustbentyoursoulalittletheotherway!"

           "Maybe,"sheanswered;"butIthinknot.I’mneverreallywildandneverhavebeen.Thatlittleoutburstwaspurespring."

           "Andyouare,too,"saidhe.

           Theywerewalkingalongnow.

           "No—you’rewrongagain,howcanapersonofyourownself-reputedbrainsbesoconstantlywrongaboutme?I’mtheoppositeofeverythingspringeverstoodfor.