She would meet him upon this ground: he should never be given the slightest hint that she was unhappy. There’s no sense in morality, I suppose, unless you are fundamentally immoral. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. The charm of innocence breathes around her, as fragrance is diffused by the flower, sanctifying her lightest thought and action, and shielding her, like a spell, from the approach of evil. Decidedly this was imbecile. But there was nothing in her bearing that a passer-by would have noted, to tell of the excitement that possessed her.
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