pale. Do you feel ill? What can I do? Come with me to the artists' room;
my secretary is there.' I put out a hand gropingly, for I could not see
clearly, and I thought I should reel and fall. It touched his shoulder.
He took my arm, and we went; no one had noticed us, and I had not spoken
a word. In the room to which he guided me, through a long and sombre
corridor, there was no sign of a secretary. I drank some water. 'There,
you are better!' he cried. 'Thank you,' I said, but scarcely whispering.
'How fortunate I ventured to come to you just at that moment! You might
have fallen'; and he smiled again. I shook my head. I said: 'It was your
coming--that--that--made me dizzy!' 'I profoundly regret--' he began.
'No, no,' I interrupted him; and in that instant I knew I was about to
say something which society would, justifiably, deem unpardonable in a
girl situated as I was. 'I am so glad you came'; and I smiled, courageous
and encouraging. For once in my life--for the first time in my adult
life--I determined to be my honest self to another. 'Your voice is
exquisitely beautiful,' he murmured. I thrilled.

Of what use to chronicle the steps, now halting, now only too hasty, by
which our intimacy progressed in that gaunt and echoing room? He asked me
no questions as to my identity. He just said that he would like to play
to me in private if that would give me pleasure, and that possibly I
could spare an hour and would go with him.... Afterwards his brougham
would be at my disposal. His tone was the perfection of deferential
courtesy. Once the secretary came in--a young man rather like
himself--and they talked together in a foreign language that was not
French nor German; then the secretary bowed and retired.... We were
alone.... There can be no sort of doubt that unless I was prepared to
flout the wisdom of the ages, I ought to have refused his suggestion. But
is not the wisdom of the ages a medicine for majorities? And, indeed, I
was prepared to flout it, as in our highest and our lowest moments we