“Excellent,” he said. “You hit the mound.” The mound was the size of Bedford Square. Blindfolded, she could hardly miss it. Still, a wave of happiness surged through her. She wanted to jump up and down. She wanted to dance. She wanted to throw her arms about his neck and kiss him senseless—for teaching her how to do something, a useful thing that men knew how to do, a skill that even her indulgent brother hadn’t taught her. “Try it again,” Mr. Carsington said. “This time, see if you can do it without any prompting from me.” This time she went through the preliminaries a degree more
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