” “But why?” “He’s married—and, I believe, living separated from his wife. Everybody talking of you. There are way-stations—even terminals. Ramage, by a hundred skilful hints had led her to realize that the problem of her own life was inseparably associated with, and indeed only one special case of, the problems of any woman’s life, and that the problem of a woman’s life is love. “Why not? It might amuse me. Jests are not for seasons like this. “All right?” asked the man with the light eyelashes, suddenly appearing in the doorway. Grandmothers and grandfathers and uncles and aunts … to love and to coddle lonely little girls. My heart fails me. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. . His back was no sooner turned, than she slipped this casket into the box. “How unkind!” she exclaimed.
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