Here was not the individual against whom she had been warned. I went to her rooms to-night. “If I had three hands,” she said, with a faint smile, “I would give one to each of you. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. She wouldn't be able to pass by anywhere without folks turning their heads.
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