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And Ritter’s, too, was very amusing and foreign and discreet; a little rambling room with a number of small tables, with red electric light shades and flowers. “I don’t see there’s any getting away from the fact that you and I love each other,” he said, slowly. In the beginning was afraid; but after the first several cases, I had only pity. He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. While the carpenter irresolutely quitted the room, with a strong presentiment of ill upon his mind, a light quick step was heard descending the stairs, and before he could call out to prevent it, a man was admitted into the passage.
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