The carte de jour was before Monsieur. ’ He slid slowly down and collapsed to the stone floor, fainting dead away. There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon. At least, he would always be able to take care of Ruth. This is a tale of two young fools. But it is the truth. You’re a good friend.
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