“That young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Café de Paris to-day. “You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened. But he was at last persuaded that I mean you no harm, and that I might—just possibly, since I am both a gentleman and a major of militia—be able to be of more assistance to you than he himself. I don’t want a family in the suburbs and Christmases at the Florida house and summers at the Hamptons. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. Nor my grandfathers both. As though it was indelicate—it’s just a sort of shyness.
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