He had heard me sing—the fool thought himself in love with me. It wasn’t clear to me that I had to explain. She offers me no explanation, permits me absolutely no hope. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. Shall we say at half-past seven?” She rose from her chair. ” “Sorry. Are you sure you haven't mistaken the ward, Mr. ‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur. "Good-b'ye!" And with a cordial shake of the hand he took his departure.
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