” He passed his hand wearily over his forehead. The horror of those few minutes was still with her. His eyes flashed as he turned towards her. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. ‘Kill him? Oh. ’ ‘Parbleu, but I find you excessively rude,’ she snapped, marching to meet him. If you had lived twenty years ago you would have been called a Young Person, and it would have been your chief duty in life not to know, never to have heard of, and never to understand. We had better have it over. He believes that he is leaving this conscience behind; and I want to watch his disillusion on this particular point. She went past three keenly observant and ostentatiously preoccupied waiters down the thickcarpeted staircase and out of the Hotel Rococo, that remarkable laboratory of relationships, past a tall porter in blue and crimson, into a cool, clear night. They had been playing tennis, with his manifest intention looming over her. The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors. How much he would be able to do for her. “It’s precious unromantic.
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