Page:Confessions of a wife (IA confessionsofwif00adamiala).pdf/23

 I 'm glad that woman does n't know it.

I have n't been outside of my father's garden, either. And you know, Marna Trent, how much you respect your father's garden. In the first place, it 's a garden, and in the next, it 's your father's. I believe the storm-soul got me, as the water-soul took Undine, when nobody expected it.

"The princess was a sea-princess, but she lived in an inland country"—poor thing! I always thought I should like to go to school with a princess, and be able to say "Poor thing!" to her, for of course they 're nothing but other girls, only they can't wallow round among wet things in rubber boots and golf-skirts. Who would be a princess if she could be the daughter of an ex-governor, and live in a big, dull suburban place, with a garden seven acres across?

I went out into the garden, I say, and it stormed like the Last Day (I 've always thought it would come in a spring freshet), and nobody saw me, for the servants were n't about, and the secretary was reading "The Life of Rufus Choate" to Father (Father always chooses some of those contemporary things); and I saw the top of Mr. Herwin's head as I crept by the library windows—he has rather a nice head, if his hair were n't too curly. I don't like curly men, but straight ones, like Father. I stood on