in her hand, and looking straight in front of her. "I don't know--I am

resolved to Live my Own Life."

"Of course," said Mr. Hoopdriver. "Naturally."

"I want to Live, and I want to see what life means. I want to learn.

Everyone is hurrying me, everything is hurrying me; I want time to

think."

Mr. Hoopdriver was puzzled, but admiring. It was wonderful how clear and

ready her words were. But then one might speak well with a throat and

lips like that. He knew he was inadequate, but he tried to meet the

occasion. "If you let them rush you into anything you might repent of,

of course you'd be very silly."

Don't YOU want to learn?" she asked.

I was wondering only this morning," he began, and stopped.

She was too intent upon her own thoughts to notice this insufficiency.

I find myself in life, and it terrifies me. I seem to be like a little

speck, whirling on a wheel, suddenly caught up. 'What am I here for?'

I ask. Simply to be here at a time--I asked it a week ago, I asked it

yesterday, and I ask it to-day. And little things happen and the days

pass. My stepmother takes me shopping, people come to tea, there is a

new play to pass the time, or a concert, or a novel. The wheels of the

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The Wheels of Chance