I should like to show it you--to see what you make of it."
He rose and from his bureau extracted a note; then he resumed his seat and tossed me the almost illegible scrawl:--
DEAR LIONEL,--All this time I have been too blessed--too supremely happy to face the truth. You do not know my real name nor my grievous history, and the more I love and honour you the harder becomes the revelation. I can endure it no more--so good-bye.
"And was that all?"
"Absolutely. I pressed the pansy in the poem, and vowed--such vows are cheap--never to trust a woman again. But, after all, what claim have we to view our love as a priceless gift when we invariably demand cent. per cent. in kind? I have argued this out with myself, and realise that I was her debtor, I was first an artist whom she had patronised and then--a man whom she had----"
"I was going to say--ennobled. Don't you think there are some women who, by power of faith, transmute even clay-footed idols into gold?"
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