Through the red flame-days of October she danced before him, a tantalizing heart of thistledown. If she settled, it was always well ahead. When he came up with her and stooped, thinking her capture certain, some new breeze of caprice or reticence would sweep her beyond the reach of his grasp. They discussed love in generalizations--in terms of life, literature and the latest play. They discussed very little else. “When I’m married-------” he would say. “Well?” she would encourage him, snuggling her face against her white-fox furs. “When I am married, every day’ll be a new romance. I can live anywhere I like--that’s the beauty of being an artist. I think I shall live in Italy first, somewhere on the Bay of Naples. I and my wife” (how her eyes would twinkle when he said that!), “I and my wife will dress up every evening. We’ll have a different set of costumes for every night in the week, and we’ll dine out in an arbor in our little garden. Sometimes she’ll be a Dresden Shepherdess, and sometimes a Queen Guinevere, and sometimes-----” “And won’t she ever be herself?” “She’ll always be that, with a beauty-patch just about where you wear yours and a little curl bobbing against her neck.” “But what’s the idea of so many costumes?” “We shall never get used to each other; we shall always seem to be loving for the first time--beginning all afresh.--Doesn’t it attract you, Princess?” “Me? I don’t see what I’ve got to do with it. Here’s the kind of woman you’ll marry: a nice little thing without any ambitions, who’ll think you’re a genius. You’ll live in one house forever and ever, and have a large family and go to church every Sunday. And you’ll have a dead secret that you’ll never be able to tell her, about a famous actress whom you once romped with in New York before she was famous.” She had a thousand ways of turning him aside from confession. “Men are rotters--all men except you, Meester Deek. Poor little Fluffy! Horace isn’t at all nice to her.” It transpired on inquiry that Horace wasn’t at all nice to Fluffy because she was dividing her leisure between himself and Simon Freelevy. “You see, she must,” Desire explained. “It’s business. _October_ isn’t the success they expected--it’s too English in its atmosphere. If Freelevy likes her, he can put her into his biggest productions. Horace won’t understand that it’s business. He sulks and makes rows. That’s why I go about with her so much--her little chaperone, she calls me. Men have to be polite and can’t take advantage when a young girl is present.” “But what does she give them in return?” Teddy asked. Desire became cold. “Any man should feel proud to be seen in her company.”