She walked straight across to the wardrobe and opened it. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. ’ ‘Of Leonardo? Yes, I will tell you. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. She did not know Mr. Sheppard, somewhat alarmed by this preamble.
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