"i`ve seen it, too," she said. "i read a poem once about a little white bird that came to rest on a window sill and the lady who lived in the house began to put out food for it. soon the lady fell in love, but it was a mismatched love. everyday the little bird came to the window and the lady put out food. when the love af

　　fair was over, the little white bird never returned, but the woman went on puttin out the crumbs16 every day for years and the wind just blew them away."

　　in july he took her boating frequently. she prepared a picnic lunch each time, and he manned17 the sails. the most awkward event of this, she felt, was the loading and unloading18 of herself. for charles, however, these "freight handlings", as she came to call it, seemed to be the highlight of the outings. he appeared to take great delight in wheeling her to the end of the pier19, picking her up out of the chair, balancing himself to set her into the boat, then collapsing the chair and setting it on its side on board. on the first few outings, she had felt distinctly ill at ease at having been placed helplessly in a spot from which she could not move herself. it occurred to her, too, that she was unable to swim, should the boat turn over.20 charles, who adapted himself marvelously to the captain`srole, was completely oblivious21 to her discomfort; she noted with a returning sense of helplessness how much he enjoyed being in control. when he called for her one day in early august with a brand new captain`s hat cocked atop22 his soft brown hair, all her emotions revolted at the idea of another day trapped on the wooden seat over the water ?nbsp;and she refused to go.