her head innocently under the paternal rebuke.
They played extremely badly and lost a great number of points.
At the change of partners they were separated; but separation united them the better, for their knees soon came together under the table. The game, under these conditions, became delicious. Rose did her best to beat her lover and at the same time, delighting in the sense of contrast, caressed him under the table. Life seemed to her very delightful.
She was a little feverish and it was late before she went to sleep, to dream of this wonderful day when she had so joyously reached the summit of her desires. She was loved; that was happiness. She did not for a moment think of wondering whether she were herself in love. She had no doubts on the state of her heart.
M. Hervart's reflections were somewhat different. They also were extremely confused. Women live entirely in the present; men much more in the future—a sign, it may be, that their nature is not so well or organized. M.
