Confess. Grand street, anyway."

"I haven't touched a pencil, except to add up a column of
figures or copy an order, since last September, when you
were so sure I couldn't stop."

"You've done a thousand in your head. And if you haven't
done one on paper so much the better. You'll jam them back,
and stifle them, and screw the cover down tight on every
natural impulse, and then, some day, the cover will blow off
with a loud report. You can't kill that kind of thing,
Fanny. It would have to be a wholesale massacre of all the
centuries behind you. I don't so much mind your being
disloyal to your tribe, or race, or whatever you want to
call it. But you've turned your back on yourself; you've
got an obligation to humanity, and I'll nag you till you pay
it. I don't care if I lose you, so long as you find
yourself. The thing you've got isn't merely racial. God,
no! It's universal. And you owe it to the world. Pay up,
Fanny! Pay up!"

"Look here!" began Fanny, her voice low with anger; "the
last time I saw you I said I'd never again put myself in a
position to be lectured by you, like a schoolgirl. I mean
it, this time. If you have anything else to say to me, say
it now. The train leaves"--she glanced at her wrist--"in
two minutes, thank Heaven, and this will be your last
chance."

"All right," said Heyl. "I have got something to say. Do