and she has been here studying with Schwarz for about a year and a
half now. She has some talent, but is indolent to the last degree, and
only works when she can't help it. Also she always has an admirer of
some kind in tow. This, to-day, is her last particular friend.--Is that
biographical matter enough?"

He was afraid he had made himself ridiculous in her eyes, and did not
answer. They walked the rest of the way in silence. At her house-door,
they paused to take leave of each other.

"Good-bye. Come and see me sometimes when you have time. We were once
colleagues, you know, and are now fellow-pupils. I should be glad to
help you if you ever need help."

He thanked her and promised to remember; then walked home without,
knowing how he did it. He had room in brain for one thought only; he
knew her name, he knew her name. He said it again and again to
himself, walked in time with it, and found it as heady as wine; the
mere sound of the spoken syllables seemed to bring her nearer to him,
to establish a mysterious connection between them. Moreover, in itself
it pleased him extraordinarily; and he was vaguely grateful to
something outside himself, that it was a name he could honestly
admire.

In a kind of defiant challenge to unseen powers, he doubled his arm
and felt the muscles in it. Then he sat down at his piano, and, to the
dismay of his landlady--for it was now late evening--practised for a
couple of hours without stopping. And the scales he sent flying
up and down in the darkness had a ring of exultation in them, were
like cries of triumph.