“I rue the day I ever met you, Sebastianus. You—It’s jolly of you to confide in me. ‘He’d have been that happy if he’d known how you’re the spit of her, miss. “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. "Mr. “Dear friend,” she said, “do you not think that you are breaking an unspoken compact? I am very sorry. It would have been the right idea, had Ruth been other than what she was. She used to play violin, you know. She thought she had hidden well from him. Lord, what a state I was in! Night after night I sat there, I watched her come in, I watched her go. ’ She frowned suddenly. .
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