If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. So am I. She was perhaps three-and-twenty, and very pink and healthy-looking, showing a great deal of white and rounded neck above her business-like but altogether feminine blouse, and a good deal of plump, gesticulating forearm out of her short sleeve. "Fold it … under the pillow. What will you give me to save you from your pursuers?" "Can you do so?" asked the other, doubtfully. " "Go, Sir," rejoined the knight, haughtily. Make no promises on a night where I have burdened you with such awful knowledge. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers.
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