"I love you dearly, also.

Oh! it isn't possible you still love me.

Good-bye, good-bye; it would smother us both; it would be more than we could stand." And she darted through Madame Goujet's room and found herself outside on the pavement again.

When she recovered her senses she had rung at the door in the Rue de la Goutte-d'Or and Boche was pulling the string.

The house was quite dark, and in the black night the yawning, dilapidated porch looked like an open mouth.