possess great animal magnetism! Yours is a more elusive, more--how shall
I put it?--an attraction more spirituelle. . . . To those it touches,
worse luck, a more enduring one."

"More enduring?"

"Far more. Animal magnetism is a thing of bodily presence. Once one is
away from it--apart--one is free. Until the next meeting! But _your_
victims aren't even free from you when you're not there."

"It sounds a trifle boring. Like a visitor who never knows when it's
time to go."

Rooke smiled.

"You're trying to switch me off the main theme, which is your work."

She sprang up.

"Don't bully me any more," she said quickly, "and I'll play you one of my
recent compositions."

She sauntered across to the piano and began to play a little ripping
melody, full of sunshine and laughter, and though a sob ran through it,
it was smothered by the overlying gaiety. Rooke crossed to her side and
quietly lifted her hands from the keys.

"Charming," he said. "But it doesn't ring true. That was meant for a
sad song. As it stands, it's merely flippant--insincere. And
insincerity is the knell of art."