“Please forgive me—for one moment,” she sobbed. ” “Have I done something wrong? Should I take you home?” “No. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. ” “It seems so—so unworthy”—she picked among her phrases “of the noble love you give—” She stopped, through the difficulty she found in expressing herself. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. As soon as the latter beheld him, she uttered a loud scream, and fainted. ‘Say then, Jacques, you have followed him?’ she demanded of the blackgarbed footman. . . He’ll survive.
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