She was a large, resilient girl, with a foolish smile, a still more foolish expression of earnestness, and a throaty contralto voice. “Thank Heaven, they are bringing the hors d’oeuvres. Clotilde announced that she would not be back and she was taking Fritz and Anna forever. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed.
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