signature. I shared her emotion, but I was disappointed. "He
doesn't say what it is."

"How could he--in a telegram? He'll write it."

"But how does he know?"

"Know it's the real thing? Oh I'm sure that when you see it you do
know. Vera incessu patuit dea!"

"It's you, Miss Erme, who are a 'dear' for bringing me such news!"-
-I went all lengths in my high spirits. "But fancy finding our
goddess in the temple of Vishnu! How strange of George to have
been able to go into the thing again in the midst of such different
and such powerful solicitations!"

"He hasn't gone into it, I know; it's the thing itself, let
severely alone for six months, that has simply sprung out at him
like a tigress out of the jungle. He didn't take a book with him--
on purpose; indeed he wouldn't have needed to--he knows every page,
as I do, by heart. They all worked in him together, and some day
somewhere, when he wasn't thinking, they fell, in all their superb
intricacy, into the one right combination. The figure in the
carpet came out. That's the way he knew it would come and the real
reason--you didn't in the least understand, but I suppose I may
tell you now--why he went and why I consented to his going. We
knew the change would do it--that the difference of thought, of
scene, would give the needed touch, the magic shake. We had
perfectly, we had admirably calculated. The elements were all in
his mind, and in the secousse of a new and intense experience they