I've got to
create something. Oh, those people! If you just knew them! That
fool Mary Stettinius is mad about that Tchatzsky person, and her
husband invites him to teas. Stettinius is mad about Olympia,
who'll probably take Carson out and marry him, and he'll keep on
hanging about the Greek girl. Ungh!"
"I don't know--I don't know--"
But as he didn't know what he didn't know she merely patted his
arm and said, soothingly: "I won't criticize your first
specimens of radicals any more. They are trying to do something,
anyway." Then she added, in an irrelevant tone, "You're exactly
as tall as I am. Mouse dear, you ought to be taller."
They were entering the drab stretch of Tavistock Place, after a
silence as drab, when she exclaimed: "Mouse, I am _so_ sick of
everything. I want to get out, away, anywhere, and do
something, anything, just so's it's different. Even the
country. I'd like--Why couldn't we?"
"Let's go out on a picnic to-morrow, Istra."
"A picnic picnic? With pickles and a pillow cushion and several
kinds of cake?.
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