’ ‘How shocking,’ Gerald returned, grinning. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. "You see?" Ruth said. Instead of which, more than half an hour has elapsed. You'll find me at supper. Still —there you are!” He paused. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. ‘It does not matter to me if he comes or no, madame. He tried this sentence with expletives. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. But De Maupassant—sheer off! Stick to Dickens and Thackeray and Hugo. “What did you say?” “Well, I considered myself justified in denying it,” Anna answered drily. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. He saw it in book-covers, on the stage.
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