” “You have her face and figure,” he muttered. Now I do. E. . . ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. We were fellow passengers from Charing Cross, and we have been fellow lodgers in the Rue d’Entrepot. She saw herself building up a life upon that —a life restrained, kindly, beautiful, a little pathetic and altogether dignified; a life of great disciplines and suppressions and extensive reserves. Quite soon, after we were married—it was just within a year—I formed a friendship with the wife of a friend, a woman eight years older than myself. Some day she wanted to be loved as Marius loved Cosette; but there was another character which bit far more deeply into her mind. . “Promise. She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat.
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