“I did something last summer,” he said; “it was just before I met you. Perhaps it’ll make you smile. I’d just come to success, and I wanted to tell you; but I hadn’t an idea where to find you in the whole wide world. I tried to pretend that you were still in the woodland beside the pond. I went there and stayed all day, willing that you should come. You couldn’t have been so far away; you may have been in London. Well, I had that poem with me, and---- You know the way one gets into moods? It seemed to me that you weren’t a truly person and never had been--that you were just a faery’s child, a ghost in my mind.” ‘I set her on my prancing steed, And nothing else saw all day long; For sidelong would she bend, and sing A faery’s song.’ “That sort of thing. Perhaps you were thinking of me at the very time.” “Perhaps,” she nodded. “Coming back to England after all those years did make me think of you. But how does the whole poem go? Can’t you repeat it?” He had come to, “And there I shut her wild, wild eyes with kisses four,” when she stopped him. “I should never let you do that If I did----” She bent towards him flippantly, lowering her voice. “If I did, d’you know what I’d do next? I should marry you.” The curl against her neck shook in emphatic affirmative. “I’m not going to be La Belle Dame whatever you call her any more. I’m going to try to be Nell Gwynn always. You must tell me next time I’m that La Belle person, and I’ll stop it.” “Ah, but I can’t--that’s a part of the spell When you look that way I can’t speak to you. I’m dazed. It’s as though you’d buried me beneath a mountain of ice. I can only see you and feel unhappy. I can’t even stir.” He fell to gazing at her. His silence lasted so long that she grew restless. “Say it,” she urged. “I was thinking that, in spite of all these people and the orchestra and the dancing, we’re by ourselves--not afraid of each other the way we were.” “Oh!” She twisted her shoulders. “And now I’ll tell you why: it’s because there’s a table between us and, however much you wanted, you couldn’t do anything silly. So, you see, I’m safe, and can afford to be gracious.” He knew at once that it was the truth that she had stated. How few girls would have said it! They had finished their coffee. She had been very pressing that he should smoke a cigar. He had just lighted one, and was comfortably wondering what they should do next; a drive in the country perhaps, and then back to the tall city lying spectral in moonlight. She consulted her wrist-watch and pushed back her chair. “How about the taxi?”