But before he could say anything, the vehicle rolled to a halt. Drink for him had a queer phase. From the window he saw The Tigress faring toward Copeley's! Then somebody was coming? Some political high muckamuck, probably. A large body of the constables of Westminster next made their appearance, the chief of whom entered the Lodge, where they were speedily joined by the civic authorities. But De Maupassant—sheer off! Stick to Dickens and Thackeray and Hugo. 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. And yet—I love you.
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