She held out her hand frankly. I myself have had the pleasure of dining with her. The turning of the key startled her, but she did not see how she could make an objection. Her eyes followed him. There was no one at all in this room, but through the half-open door of one of the small apartments that gave upon it she had a glimpse of two very young girls sitting at a littered table and writing briskly. F. You go to your room and ring for your maid. F. I’ve accustomed myself to think of you— as if you were like every other girl who works at the schools—as something quite outside these possibilities. What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think. They’re too free for their innocence or too innocent for their freedom. Bullding is going to. And when you reflect how much at heart your poor mother, whose loss we must ever deplore, had our union, you will, I am persuaded, no longer refuse me.
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