Mingled with the pleasure which her nearness gave him, there were subordinate but distinct sensations. Except his sister Mary, he had never before been upon terms of close familiarity with any woman, and he realised with elation that now for the first time the latencies of manhood were aroused. His friendship--if indeed it were nothing else--with this gracious, inscrutable creature seemed a thing to be very proud of, to gloat upon in secret, to contemplate with a dark smile as one walked along the street or sat in a bus.... And then, with a shock of joyful, half-incredulous surprise, he made the discovery that she--she--had found some attractiveness in himself. Their loneliness gave zest and piquancy to the situation. On neither side were there relatives or friends who might obtrude, or whom it would be proper to consult. They had only themselves to consider. Not a soul in London, with the exception of Lottie, knew of their intimacy,--the visit to Littlehampton, their plans for visiting the theatres, her touching reliance upon him. Ah, that confiding feminine trust! He read it frequently in her glance, and it gave him a sense of protective possession. He had approached no closer than to shake her hand, and yet, as he looked at the slight frame, the fragile fingers, the tufts of hair which escaped over her ears,--these things seemed to be his. Surely she had donned that beautiful dress for him; surely she moved gracefully for him, talked softly for him! He left his chair, quietly lighted the candles at the piano, and began to turn over some songs. "What are you doing?" she asked, from the window. "I want you to sing." "Must I?" "Certainly. Let me find something with an easy accompaniment." She came towards him, took up a song, opened it, and bade him look at it. "Too difficult," he said abruptly. "Those arpeggios in the bass,--I couldn't possibly play them." She laid it aside obediently. "Well, this?" "Yes. Let us try that." She moved nearer to him, to miss the reflection of the candles on the paper, and put her hands behind her back. She cleared her throat. He knew she was nervous, but he had no such feeling himself. "Ready?" he asked, glancing round and up into her face. She smiled timidly, flushing, and then nodded. "No," she exclaimed the next second, as he boldly struck the first chord. "I don't think I'll sing. I can't." "Oh, yes, you will--yes, you will." "Very well." She resigned herself.