” “Perhaps,” he said, “you had better let me have your key, and I will go up and explore. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes. “You must pack for me. " "She? My God, the pity of it! She knows nothing of life. “Who decorated the school like this?” She asked, peering up at the multicolored banners that hung everywhere. She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry. How did you get your luggage out of the house? Wasn’t it—wasn’t it rather in some respects—rather a lark? It’s one of my regrets for my lost youth. He began a jerky, broken conversation that lasted until they reached the station, and left her puzzled at its drift and meaning. “Absolutely platonically,” she said.
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