’ She eyed him. ” “Such independence,” he answered quickly, “is a vice. ” A man who had been sitting with his hat tilted over his eyes at an adjacent table had risen to his feet and stood suddenly before them. ” “But don’t you see how I must stand to you? Don’t you see how it bars us from being lovers—You can’t—at first. “What are your objections?” she said. There it is. His eyes closed. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. But it is my fault. I want to leave Paris to-day—this very day.
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