“Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. 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. You represented to us the immaculate Briton, the one Englishman who typified the Saxonism, if I may coin a word, of our race. At the threshold of the study he bade her good-night; but he did not touch her forehead with his lips.
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