For a full minute we stood and looked at each other. Under the full light, which the boy had switched on as he went out, her face and figure were sharply limned. A tall woman has always the best of it in any controversy, though I am sure my _vis-à-vis_ did not realize her advantage. If her mind was as confused as her face indicated she was to be pitied. She was not merely a plain woman; she was the epitome of plainness. Nature had not given her a single redeeming feature; there was not even a hint of sauciness to the upturned nose; not a speculative quirk to the corner of the mouth or a fetching droop to the eyelids which sometimes illuminates the plainest of faces. Perhaps she realized the niggardliness of her gifts. There was an evident attempt at primping. Her hat sat uneasily upon a head unaccustomed to the hair-dresser's art. The shoes, too, I felt, were painful: they were so new and the heels so high, and unstable--a radical departure from the common-sense last which was as much a component part of her as the feet themselves. I visualized her home, her life and her commonplace associates ... the eternal illusion of the stage ... Will's magnetism, combined with the perfections and never-failing nobility of the stage hero.... I saw it all as clearly as I saw the strained, vari-expressioned face before me. All this in a brief fleeting moment. I smiled encouragingly. Her eyes met mine, then wavered and drooped, and drooping rested upon the violets--and we both understood.... "Won't you sit down?" I said, leading the way to a divan with the idea of easing the situation. "Do have a pillow!--there, is that more comfortable? These sofas seem never to fit in to one's back.... I'm sorry Mr. Hartley is not in. Usually he _is_ in at this hour, but to-night he is dining out. I know he will be sorry to have missed you, for I am sure he wants to thank you in person for the lovely flowers. Yes, he told me all about it and we both appreciated your sweetness in sending them. I hope Mr. Hartley wrote and properly thanked you,"--I rattled on, hoping to give her time to recover herself. "He is, as a rule, quite punctilious in these matters, but with the holidays and the extra matinées--" I finished with an expressive shrug. There was a disheartening silence. "I think I must be going," she faltered at last, waiting for me to rise. "I'm afraid I've kept you too long.... You've been very kind.... I hope you haven't been shocked by ... by ... the unconventional way I...." Her speech came in jerks.