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 mentally reprimanded herself to alter her own visage so as not to appear depraved. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. She had been obliged to wait all morning for the opportunity to talk to Martha, who chose always to retire to her cell for the period of recreation that preceded afternoon prayers. Life! Life and love! It makes me want to be always young, always strong, always devoting my life—and dying splendidly. Everything. ” He turned upon her almost fiercely.
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