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” “You don’t. “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. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. Very intelligent, by the looks of the books she was carrying. . But I proved it to them! Oh yeah, I told John, but I don’t think he believes me either.
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