” “There was no marriage,” she answered. ” She growled. ‘Don’t dare address me by such a title. "Nobody composes any more, nobody paints, nobody writes—I mean, on a par with what we've just heard. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. And he unsheathed his sword. It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. “You’ll get me to allude to it, but you’d have to torture me to admit it. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. A good woman’s mind has angels with flaming swords at the portals to keep out fallen thoughts.
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