“You are the first reporter who has been permitted to enter this house. I have treated you with courtesy and I trust you will spare me any further humiliation in this affair.” Such an appeal--it came straight from his heart, but how could I befriend him? I felt myself becoming entangled in a desperate situation. All that he said was true, but on the other hand I had been requested to handle the case carefully and procure the interview at any cost. I had no doubt that I could obtain the story now, Professor Symonds was my victim or my friend, whichever I wished to make of him. The event rested with me; yet I could not forget with what confidence and assurance I had received the assignment together with full directions for finding the house. Where would I end? I played carelessly with the beads around my neck, pulled my hat a little further to the side, pretended to catch my veil tighter, and then smoothed the wrinkles out of the arms of my gloves; but I could not decide which road to take. Professor Symonds was longing for a friend--a sympathizer. He was dying to talk--to unburden himself, and the moment seemed propitious. He gave an appealing look and without further protest began to talk. “This is the story. I give it to you. Do with it what you will.” From that second, with me, love took the place of admiration, and I knew that he knew the story was safe. “It is true that my wife eloped with Milton.” As he uttered these words his emotion overpowered him, and he dropped his head in his hands. It affected me so painfully that I tried to restrain him from harrowing his feelings any further. But it seemed as if he understood the sympathetic attitude of his visitor, and wished to confide in me. He continued: “But there were circumstances that caused it. She was a good woman, a really good woman, but our tastes were entirely different. She loved the city and its closeness to ‘things’; I loved the country and its freedom from noise. She loved people; I loved solitude. And besides these differences there were things which you are too young to understand.” I had the natural curiosity of woman and her native diplomacy. So I did not interrupt the continuity of his thoughts.