She winced as he thrust the fact at her, was about to answer, and checked herself. “To Paris! But why? What do you hope to discover there?” “I do not know,” he answered, “but I am going to see David Courtlaw. He had certain orders from which on no account was he to deviate. She must learn wisdom—as God pleases. I wonder what men would say if we threw the mask aside—if we really told them what WE thought of them, really showed them what WE were. CHAPTER XX. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. He was in trouble and she could not help him; that was the ache in her heart. She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose. He continued tenderly, almost affectionately.
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