were manicured and on one of his little fingers I observed a ring which I had never seen him wear before. Later, when I examined it more closely, it proved to be an amethyst intaglio, with Leda and the Swan for its subject. It has been said, perhaps too often, that you cannot make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. It is even more true that you cannot make a sow's ear out of a silk purse.
I rose to the room: It's nicer than Edith's.
It's not bad, Peter admitted. I didn't get it fixed up at first. I like it better now, don't you?
I liked your friend, the other night, he continued.
You mean Edith?
Yes, you must take me there again.
I'm sorry but that is impossible. She has given up her apartment and returned to Florence. But, I added, I didn't know that you had talked together.
We didn't exchange three words, not even two, he said, but I took her in and she took me in. 'We like each other, I'm sure, and some day we'll meet again. Look, he added, sweeping his arm around, see what her glamour has given me, a new life!
But why did you leave so early?
I met a girl. . . .
The next few weeks have left a rather confused impression in my mind, perhaps because Peter himself seemed to be confused. He never spoke of his book. Occasionally we went to the theatre or to a concert. I remember a concert of Negro music
