She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. ‘That would have grieved Jarvis. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. “I have noticed,” he said, “that you seem to delight in taking a topsy-turvy view of life. Even the teachers were getting restless, the seniors gnawing hard at the bit as graduation teased. ‘Wait! At least tell me where I can find you. After the sights he would have to twiddle his thumbs until the joints cracked.
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