Happily they had no one else to wait for, and it heartened her mightily to think that she had ordered the promptest possible service of the dinner. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. The teacher droned on and on about the mournful funerary love of Romeo and Juliet, a tale she had long since tired of. Perhaps, after all, the others were right. . “FAIL!” she said. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated.
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