Surely it was a dream. Neither their mother nor Sebastian noticed, as certain members of the house had taken to avoiding each other. “You’re getting too old to put things off, John. Then a ride to London on horseback. Even if you pretend sometimes to be without sense. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. "You've won your wager.
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