He decided to give the dandelion a chance to survive. “After all, it may survive,” he thought; “and if it doesn’t⁠—Ailinon! Ailinon! What does it matter?”

Moving on again at random, burdened with perplexities, he suddenly found himself in the midst of a circle of children who were gazing in envious rapture at a gaily decorated swing that was whirling up and down in full, crowded activity. It was a boat-swing, and the boats were painted azure and scarlet and olive-green.⁠ ⁠…