"Mr. Ford is to go--at once. I've failed."
"I'm sorry."
"I've failed with Harcourt. He's offended. He won't laugh. He won't let
me do what I want. Latin and Greek began it: I wanted to know about gods
and heroes and he wouldn't let me: then I wanted no fence round Other
Kingdom and no bridge and no path--and look! Now I ask that Mr. Ford,
who has done nothing, sha'n't be punished for it--and he is to go away
for ever."
"Impertinence is not 'nothing,' Miss Beaumont." For I must keep in with
Harcourt.
"Impertinence is nothing!" she cried. "It doesn't exist. It's a sham,
like 'claims' and 'position' and 'rights.' It's part of the great
dream."
"What 'great dream'?" I asked, trying not to smile.
"Tell Mr. Ford--here comes Harcourt; I must go to bed. Give my love to
Mr. Ford, and tell him 'to guess.' I shall never see him again, and I
won't stand it. Tell him to guess. I am sorry I called him a cry-baby.
He was not crying like a baby. He was crying like a grown-up person, and
now I have grown up too."