She nodded, and then said: "Oh, it's not so hollow,--you would not call it that exactly, but it's unsatisfactory." "You have lost your illusions." "And before that occurred you had lost yours." "Do I betray it, then?" He laughed, not at all bitterly, yet not with cheerfulness. "And do you think that you have such acuteness, then, and I--" Nellie Hayden paused, raised her eyebrows a little coldly, and let the cockatoo bite her finger. "I did not mean to be egotistical. The fact is I live my life alone, and I was interested for the moment to know how I appeared to others. You and I have been tolerably candid with each other since we met, for the first time, three days ago; I knew you would not hesitate to say what was in your mind, and I asked out of honest curiosity. One fancies one hides one's self, and yet--you see!" "Do you find it pleasant, then, to be candid and free with some one?.... Why with me?" She looked him frankly in the eyes. "Well, to be more candid. You and I know the world very well, I fancy. You were educated in Europe, travelled, enjoyed--and suffered." The girl did not even blink, but went on looking at him steadily. "We have both had our hour with the world; have learned many sides of the game. We haven't come out of it without scars of one kind or another. Knowledge of the kind is expensive." "You wanted to say all that to me the first evening we met, didn't you?" There was a smile of gentle amusement on her face. "I did. From the moment I saw you I knew that we could say many things to each other 'without pre liminaries.' To be able to do that is a great deal." "It is a relief to say things, isn't it?" "It is better than writing them, though that is pleasant, after its kind." "I have never tried writing--as we talk. There's a good deal of vanity at the bottom of it though, I believe." "Of course. But vanity is a kind of virtue, too." He leaned over towards her, dropping his arms on his knees and holding her look. "I am very glad that I met you. I intended only staying here over night, but--" "But I interested you in a way--you see, I am vain enough to think that. Well, you also interested me, and I urged my aunt to press you to stay. It has been very pleasant, and when you go it will be very humdrum again; our conversation, mustering, rounding-up, bullocks, and rabbits. That, of course, is engrossing in a way, but not for long at a time." He did not stir, but went on looking at her. "Yes, I believe it has been pleasant for you, else it had not been so pleasant for me. Honestly, I don't believe I shall ever get you out of my mind." "That is either slightly rude or badly expressed," she said. "Do you wish, then, to get me out of your mind?"