“Now,” he said, quietly, “it’s time we stopped this nonsense. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. ‘You are too shrewd for me, ma’am. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would. It is just the aim I have had in view all the time. She may have any number of wasting diseases, but they cannot survive in our bodies. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. "What?—help take care of him? Why, you can't do that, Miss Enschede!" was the protest. The child has sprung into a youth; the youth has become a man; the man has already begun to feel the advances of age.
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