"Look at these," he said. "If you were ten years older, you'd only have
to glance at them, and they'd open a door to memory."

Vi gazed at the pictures, small paintings of two famous Spanish dancers.
One was beautiful, languorous, carnal; the other was neither languorous
nor carnal despite her wonderful body, and she was certainly not
beautiful. Vi laid the second picture down and held the first. Then
almost unconsciously she reached out her hand for the discarded picture.
Gradually the face that was not beautiful drew her until attention grew
into absorption. The portrait of the languorous beauty fell to her lap
and then slipped to the floor, face down. Leighton laughed.

Vi glanced up.

"Why?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing," said Leighton, "except that the effect those pictures had
on you is an exact parallel to the way the two originals influenced men.
For that----" Leighton waved a hand at the picture on the floor--"men
gave all they possessed in the way of worldly goods, and then Wondered
why they'd done it. But for her--the one you 're looking at----"

He broke off. "You never heard of De Larade? De Larade spent all of his
short life looking for animate beauty, and worshiping it when he found
it. But he died leaning too far over a balcony to pick a flower for the
Woman you're staring at."

"Why?" asked Vi again. "You knew her, of course. Tell me about her."