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Updated: June 10, 2025
She left her sentence unended, and he finished it for her in a colorless voice. "Of being on two sides of a fence, perhaps you were about to say?" She made no reply. "That is what you were going to say, isn't it?" "Yes, I started to say that," she answered, "and then I thought better of it." She spoke calmly; but she was oddly disquieted by his fixed gaze, and angry with herself for feeling it.
Was she beginning to be tired of her companionless liberty? Had the long stanzas, bound by so many interwoven links of rhyme, ending in long Alexandrines, the long cantos, the lingering sweetness long drawn out through so many unended books, begun to weary her at last? Had even a quarrel with a fisher lad been a little pastime to her? and did she now wish she had detained him a little longer?
The pause then, the suspense of all action from the world, was infinitesimal. But it seemed long to Cally. And she thought she could never forgive her father if he turned away, leaving this slight upon her friend. "Papa," she began, unsteadily, "I don't think...." But once again her sentence hung unended.
His retreating colour rose again; he had a presentiment of what was coming. "Then you must have heard " she began quickly, but left the sentence unended. His suspicions took shape, and he made a large, vague gesture of dissent. "You heard all that was said," she continued, without paying any heed to him.
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