” “Oh, Drummond’s dinner!” she repeated. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you. I received a telegram, as you know, during dinner.
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