Painting is only one slender branch of the great tree. What!— you know so little of that child? She ran away from you. The open windows were above them now and, unless the intruder were to lean out, they could not possibly be seen. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. FOREWORD Forever Fifteen was born of a dream I had in 2002, a dream that was part nightmare. There was nothing in the pockets of the coat. These fellows must be right,” he added thoughtfully, “and yet—there’s a mystery somewhere. She had never said anything so horrible to anyone in her life. At last he took up his thoughts again: “I wonder if, some day, one won’t need to rebel against customs and laws? If this discord will have gone? Some day, perhaps—who knows?—the old won’t coddle and hamper the young, and the young won’t need to fly in the faces of the old.
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