Gosse sneered. She was quite oblivious to the sensation she had created. "I'm tired of the life I'm leading. There must be something, one feels, in ideas that achieve persistently a successful resurrection. I mean—I mean to do what I can. For a moment her heart seemed to stop beating. Always as black and bitter as gall. The Ralphs and Mannings and Fortescues came down upon the raw inexperience, upon the blinking ignorance of the newcomer; and before her eyes were fairly open, before she knew what had happened, a new set of guides and controls, a new set of obligations and responsibilities and limitations, had replaced the old. As a matter of fact it isn’t their affair. I rather want them. The Times slipped from his fingers.
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