Charlotte. I have seen her; she's a beautiful girl. You haven't
written. She is worried. Remember what you mean to her happiness.
Will you go?"

That I could promise.

"Yes, I shall see Charlotte."

She rose from her chair. I held her hand. Again, as in the
restaurant, I lifted it to my lips. She flushed and drew it away.
She bit her lip. Her beauty was a kind I could not understand.

"You must see Charlotte," she said, "and you must do as she says."

With that she was gone. There was a car waiting; the last I saw
was its winking tail-light dimming into the darkness.




XVI

CHARLOTTE


Left alone, I began thinking of Charlotte. I loved her; of that I
was certain. I could not compare her with the Nervina. She was
like myself, human. I had known her since boyhood. The other was
out of the ether; my love for her was something different; she was
of dreams and moonbeams; there was a film about her beauty,