young," Mrs. Memorall interjected, with a parenthetic glance at the
mirror. "Why not accept the inevitable and begin over again? All the
King's horses and all the King's men won't bring Rendle to life-and
besides, she didn't marry _him_ when she had the chance."

Danyers winced slightly at this rude fingering of his idol. Was it
possible that Mrs. Memorall did not see what an anti-climax such a
marriage would have been? Fancy Rendle "making an honest woman" of Silvia;
for so society would have viewed it! How such a reparation would have
vulgarized their past--it would have been like "restoring" a masterpiece;
and how exquisite must have been the perceptions of the woman who, in
defiance of appearances, and perhaps of her own secret inclination, chose
to go down to posterity as Silvia rather than as Mrs. Vincent Rendle!

Mrs. Memorall, from this day forth, acquired an interest in Danyers's
eyes. She was like a volume of unindexed and discursive memoirs, through
which he patiently plodded in the hope of finding embedded amid layers of
dusty twaddle some precious allusion to the subject of his thought. When,
some months later, he brought out his first slim volume, in which the
remodelled college essay on Rendle figured among a dozen, somewhat
overstudied "appreciations," he offered a copy to Mrs. Memorall; who
surprised him, the next time they met, with the announcement that she had
sent the book to Mrs. Anerton.

Mrs. Anerton in due time wrote to thank her friend. Danyers was privileged
to read the few lines in which, in terms that suggested the habit of
"acknowledging" similar tributes, she spoke of the author's "feeling and
insight," and was "so glad of the opportunity," etc. He went away
disappointed, without clearly knowing what else he had expected.