“We were good friends in Paris, weren’t we? You made me all sorts of promises, we planned no end of nice things, and then—without a word to any one you disappeared. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. E. Capes would come to these teas; he evidently liked to come, and he would appear in the doorway of the preparation-room, a pleasing note of shyness in his manner, hovering for an invitation. Just dreamed—and ran away even from my dreams. The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway.
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