It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. She walked through the office to the door, aimlessly. " "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face. Her face expressed nothing. You're in luck to-night, widow. He just wants to get laid.
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