of life in which women rule, and remain a perfectly genuine, simple
human being. Ah! There's some people coming out."

He moved off a pace, then turning his head: "Upon my word! I
would be infinitely obliged to you if you could throw a little cold
water. . . " and at a vaguely dismayed gesture of Renouard, he
added: "Don't be afraid. You wouldn't be putting out a sacred
fire."

Renouard could hardly find words for a protest: "I assure you that
I never talk with Miss Moorsom--on--on--that. And if you, her
father . . . "

"I envy you your innocence," sighed the professor. "A father is
only an everyday person. Flat. Stale. Moreover, my child would
naturally mistrust me. We belong to the same set. Whereas you
carry with you the prestige of the unknown. You have proved
yourself to be a force."

Thereupon the professor followed by Renouard joined the circle of
all the inmates of the house assembled at the other end of the
terrace about a tea-table; three white heads and that resplendent
vision of woman's glory, the sight of which had the power to
flutter his heart like a reminder of the mortality of his frame.

He avoided the seat by the side of Miss Moorsom. The others were
talking together languidly. Unnoticed he looked at that woman so
marvellous that centuries seemed to lie between them. He was
oppressed and overcome at the thought of what she could give to
some man who really would be a force! What a glorious struggle