Our ideal had fallen. “My dear Miss Pellissier,” he said impressively, “this is an unexpected pleasure. If she was in a position to help him she would help him; only it happened to be the other way round. To tell Ruth anything, it would be necessary to tell her everything; and I cannot and you must not. Give way, and let us render what assistance we can to the poor wretch. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk.
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