She made him a sweeping curtsy so exquisitely graceful that the
action resembled nothing so much as the sway of a lily in a light
wind.

"Thanks, gentle Knight!--flower of chivalry!" she said--"I see you
love me in spite of yourself!"

He made a quick stride towards her,--then stopped. "Love you!" he
echoed,--then laughed loudly and derisively-"Great God! Love you?
YOU? If I did I should be mad! When will you learn the truth of
me?--that women are less in my estimation than the insects crawling
on a blade of grass or spawning in a stagnant pond?--that they have
no power to move me to the smallest pulse of passion or desire?--and
that you, of all your sex, seem to my mind the most--"

"Hateful?" she suggested, smilingly.

"No--the most complete and unmitigated bore!"

"Dreadful!" and she made a face at him like that of a naughty
child,--then she sank down on the sun-baked turf in an easy half-
reclining attitude--"It's certainly much worse to be a bore than to
be hated. Hate is quite a live sentiment,--besides it always means,
or HAS meant--love! You can't hate anything that is quite
indifferent to you, but of course you CAN be bored! YOU are bored by
me and I am bored by YOU!--and we are absolutely indifferent to each
other! What a comedy it is! Isn't it?"

He stood still and sombre, gazing down at the figure resting on the