way towards a horse which has won a great race, and to a woman who has
carried me with her through the fantastic drama of her dance, until she
stood at the climax, head thrown back, face glowing--a statue. It is
grand to be eloquent like that, not in words, but in person."

In this was the key to her own nature. Body and mind she was free
from ordinary morbidness, unless her dislike of all suffering was morbid.
With her this was a dislike of any shock to the senses. She was selfish
at all points.

These conclusions were pursued at the expense of speech on my part. At
first she did not appear to regard my silence. She seemed to have
thoughts of her own; but she shook them off with a little firm motion of
the shoulders, and, with the assumption of a demureness of manner and an
airy petulance, said: "Well, amuse me."

"Amuse you?" was my reply. "Delighted to do so if I can. How?"

"Talk to me," was the quick response.

"Would that accomplish the purpose?" This in a tone of mock protest.

"Please don't be foolish, Dr. Marmion. I dislike having to explain.
Tell me things."

"About what?"

"Oh, about yourself--about people you have met, and all that; for I
suppose you have seen a good deal and lived a good deal."