167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. I asked you to go. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify. You get this queer irascible musician quite impossibly and unfortunately in love with a wealthy patroness, and then out of his brain comes THIS, a tapestry of glorious music, setting out love to lovers, lovers who love in spite of all that is wise and respectable and right. " "And were I in yours," rejoined the woollen-draper, "I should be doubly apprehensive, because he's a professed friend. ‘But, Gérard—’ ‘Don’t start arguing,’ he said in a tone that brooked no defiance. Come, mon ami, come!’ Ever faithful, Kimble dragged himself into a sitting position, gasping at the pain this caused him. I told you no good would come of it.
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