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"The gentleman under the table," she answered. She tiptoed into the entryway where some decorator had placed a live orchid upon a glassy ebony table. Her eyes were wide open with amazement. ‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. NOW it’s just as though you had grown up suddenly. " "Mr. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. "Yes," answered the girl. I’m making a mess of my life— unless you come in and take it. " "Oh, yes I will. I will be very well without him.
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