when last he had been with her. She was very simply dressed. It seemed
to him that the colour of her hair was changed, was a little brighter.
But of this he was not sure. He was sure, however, that a warmth, as of
hope, subtly pervaded her whole person. And she had seemed hard, cold,
and almost hopeless on the day of her visit to him.

A woman lives in the thoughts of men about her. At this moment Mrs.
Chepstow lived in Isaacson's thought that she looked younger, less
faded, and more beautiful. Her vanity was awake. His thought of her had
suddenly increased her value in her own eyes, made her think she could
attract him. She had scarcely tried to attract him the first time that
she had met him. But now he saw her go to her armoury to select the
suitable weapon with which to strike him. And he began to understand why
she had calmly faced the light. Never could such a man as Nigel get so
near to Mrs. Chepstow as Doctor Meyer Isaacson, even though Nigel should
love her and Isaacson learn to hate her. At that moment Isaacson did
not hate her, but he almost hated his divination of her, the "Kabala,"
he carried within him and successfully applied to her.

"What has kept you in this dreary city, Doctor Isaacson," she said. "I
thought I was absolutely alone in it."

"People are still thinking they are ill."

"And you are still telling them they are not?"

"That depends!"

"I believe you have adopted that idea, that no one is ill, as a curative
method. And really there may be something in it. I fancied I was ill.