To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. Only au revoir. Then he threw the letter at me. “It is true,” he said, “that I was dining last night at a restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes, and it is true that my companion was a young lady whose name is Pellissier. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. ’ ‘You mean the bookroom, miss.
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