"Its contents are about free love. There is a young scientist, who becomes engaged to a girl free from prejudice; and while he is on an expedition, she lends herself to an artist, while expecting later to marry her betrothed."
"So? What does the authoress say about that?"
"She only laughs at that, of course."
"Fie!" said the girl and rose to go after a bottle of wine.
"Why so? No right of ownership in love! And, besides, her betrothed was tiresome, at least in her company, to judge by the delineation in the book."
"Now we are beginning to be tiresome, also," interrupted Miss Mary, as she filled the glasses.
"What shall we amuse ourselves with then?" asked the lover with an amorous smile, which could not be misunderstood. "Come now and sit down here by me."
Instead of being offended at the coarse tone and gesture, which accompanied the invitation, the girl seemed to look up to the man with a certain admiration where before she had almost despised him for his over-respectful manners.
The twilight had fallen, and the moon in its last quarter threw only a yellow-green stripe in onto the floor, silhouetting the shadow of the balsam.
Through the open window came the subdued tones of the first waltz, "The Queen of the Ball," as a reproach, a greeting from the lost Paradise, and at the same time sustained the hope that all was not ended.