“I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend. Gina, the eleven year old, just couldn’t take it and she ran away. It seemed at first the most beautiful afternoon of all time to her, and perhaps the thrill of her excitement did add a distinctive and culminating keenness to the day. You have been burning paper, I see. Well, kill me. Somehow or other his reputation as a hardened and unassailable bachelor had won for him during the last few years a comparative immunity from attentions on the part of those women with whom he had been brought into contact. The thousand voices which a few moments before had been so clamorous were now hushed. Well, one must hope, that was all.
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