On Sunday she wrote Dory to telegraph for her on Tuesday.
"I'd hate to be looking forward to that life of dull foolery," thought she, as the mossy bastions of Besancon drifted from her horizon--she was journeying up alone, Janet staying on with one of the Saint Berthe women as chaperone.

"It is foolery and it is dull.

I don't see how grown-up people endure it, unless they've never known any better.

Yet I seem unable to content myself with the life father stands for--and Dory." She appreciated the meaning of the legend of the creature with the two bodies and the two wills, each always opposed to the other, with the result that all motion was in a dazing circle in which neither wished to go.

"Still," she concluded, "I _am_ learning"-- which was the truth; indeed, she was learning with astonishing rapidity for a girl who had had such an insidiously wrong start and was getting but slight encouragement.
Dory, of course, was helping her, but not as he might.