” Her elation teetered in mid-air for a second, then began to flutter down around her like a badly-built house of cards. And as she was yet waiting for her tea to come she saw this man again. Love!” He held her arm and abandoned it again at her quick defensive movement. Mirages, over which he was constantly throwing bridges which were wasted efforts, since invariably they spanned solid ground. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. She was always the last person to exit after the crowds had stampeded, trailing slowly behind them like dust. He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun. "Your gratitude will vanish with your danger. I do not blame you for the act.
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