“My God!” cried Mitchell; “you don’t mean to say that she came to you—a girl like that?”
“Yes,” said Mendel; “I was never so happy.”
“But, I say, weren’t you afraid?”
“She was very beautiful.”
Mitchell pondered this for a long time. He seemed to be profoundly shaken. At last he said:—
“But with a girl you loved?”
“I loved her when she was there.”
“But when she wasn’t there?”
“I was busy painting.”