As she opened her English Literature, several half-sheets of paper fell out, each scribbled over with her unsuccessful beginnings.... She laughed and dropped them into the wastebasket. Then she picked up a folded paper that she did not recognize. When had she written an exercise in blue ink? She opened it, puzzled. What did it mean? An essay, apparently, in Rosalind's unmistakable writing, which was like herself, pretty, but entirely characterless. It was entitled "_The River of Time._" Plainly, it was Rosalind's idea of an essay on English literature, which she described as a river flowing down the ages, on whose waters were found lovely pearls. These pearls were represented by the names of a few outstanding writers, but after a few inadequate sentences Rosalind's imagination had apparently failed her.