“MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. " "May be," returned the man gravely. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below. Here was not the individual against whom she had been warned. This double buffetting had sharpened her shrewdness and insight. "You hesitate—you are deceiving me. He was continually dramatizing the future, anticipating the singular role he had elected to play. Only I do not care to write about anything else. He could not understand how men could live ignoring this one predominant interest, this wonderful research into personality and the possibilities of pleasing, these complex, fascinating expeditions that began in interest and mounted to the supremest, most passionate intimacy. " "That is your fault, none of mine.
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