When next he asked for her, some twelve hours later, he was told that Mademoiselle had left. ” He receded from her. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. “Idiotic, isn’t it?” “Absolutely,” she agreed coldly.
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