“This has all the clean freshness of spring and youth,” said Capes; “it is love with the down on; it is like the glitter of dew in the sunlight to be lovers such as we are, with no more than one warm kiss between us. I am sure he would go with you. “You go home,” he said, at parting; “you go home. 'Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord;' that's my comfort. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. Your career at the bar had given you a command of language, also a self-control not vouchsafed to us ordinary mortals. '" "No, we can't stand that," hiccupped Smith, scarcely able to keep his legs. He had made it even easier by walking up the steps instead of taking the elevator. Put on that new dress—the one that's all white. It might prove rewarding. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. Sometimes I think you would have been much better off if you had been born in death-worshipping Egypt instead of in the Fourteenth Century.
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