Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. The man who came to our rooms, you know, that night was his friend. “Allow me,” the doctor said, “to give you a word of advice, Miss Pellissier. We’ve deserted the posts in which we found ourselves, cut our duties, exposed ourselves to risks that may destroy any sort of social usefulness in us. He pretended to be unaware of the mishap. “You have forgotten. “But, how,” he said, sitting up astonished beyond measure, “not go on?” “I have been thinking while you have been talking. Jim is up to the neck in Mahatmas and Theosophy and Higher Thought and rot—writes letters worse than Alice. I promised to put him in touch with some people in Rome, an idea which he warmed to.
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