It was a man who was speaking, and determinedly, too.

"You've no business to be everlastingly gazing at green fields.

You ought to be turning 'em into music so that the people who've got only bricks and mortar to stare at can get a whiff of them." Nan gazed at him in astonishment--at this new, surprising Sandy who was talking to her with the forcefulness of a man ten years his senior.
"As for being 'out of it,' as you say," he went on emphatically.

"If you are, it's only by your own consent.

Anyone who writes as you can need never be out of it.