hopes that on the last page of his book he will bid his reader good-bye in the best of friendship. . . .
“. . . Tell me, how could you with such a pure soul, with those clear eyes of yours have come to this bagnio? Did not the world have some other place for you?”
“Oh, Lord,” she smiled, “you are not the first man to ask me this. It is easy enough to get here,—before one knows how. . . . A pretty face and a little misfortune,—and the world is at once as an inclined plane: one step,—and you are below. However, I often think that there is probably an eternal law that for some there is no other place than here below . . . below. . . .”
“With what enviable calm you look upon your life?” he said, with some irony. “What, is there not a moment in this impure atmosphere when you feel yourself choking terribly? Do you ever think of that? Do you ever think of the future?”
