When next he asked for her, some twelve hours later, he was told that Mademoiselle had left. Sheppard, vainly trying to discover a gleam of compassion in the thief-taker's inexorable countenance,—"Mercy! mercy!" "Pshaw!" rejoined Jonathan. ’ Roding blinked. Her eyes seemed to be looking backwards. I am a man—of a sort of experience. I’ve loved her for two years, I love her now. Her specialty is the central thing in life, it is life itself, the warmth of life, sex—and love. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. "But trifle with mo no longer.
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