“My dear Miss Pellissier,” he said impressively, “this is an unexpected pleasure. “When can we be alone together?” She asked him, never loosening her grip. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. Even he was not oblivious to it, and after about two minutes of awkward French kissing, he pulled away. It slid off flimsily. She was inclined to think that perhaps for a girl the converse of his method was the case; an older man, a man beyond the range of anything “nonsensical,” was, perhaps, the most interesting sort of friend one could meet. She dropped the locket into its sweet hiding place. Sheppard, pressing her hand to her temples. To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty.
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