Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. The old lady in the antimacassar said, abruptly, “Ah! you young people, you young people, if you only knew!” and then laughed and then mused in a marked manner; and the young man with the narrow forehead and glasses cleared his throat and asked the young man in the orange tie whether he believed that Platonic love was possible. “I don’t know how to prove myself to you, John. No more scuffling. And then scratched it out and wrote instead, “Gérard”. I feel almost inclined to regret the fact. I've destroyed my only chance. “Thank you—and good-bye.
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