"One need only cross Trafalgar Square to reach the National Gallery. My visit had to be limited to a few old English masters. I have quite a choice of favorites scattered throughout the world. The 'Musidora' of Gainsborough--that poem of limpid and voluptuous beauty, Romney's 'Lady Hamilton,' caressing Bacchante with the golden skin, blonde, lissome and impassioned--then a few marine pictures of Turner, fireworks on the waters, whose excessive light augments the darkness of the figures. I would make the trip only to see them again. My companion inhaled art as her native air. We experienced the same exaltation and agreed in our interpretation. I have rarely enjoyed so much pleasure in a museum, for it was deepened by that emotion which I knew she was experiencing with me. "'You should see the English country,' she said. 'Then you would have a better understanding of our painters. The lawns and trees are more beautiful because of the dampness of the air. I have discovered that while riding. That is my favorite pastime. Only I am not alone and the horse does not belong to me.' "My presence constantly brought back memories of former days. Her eyes grew dim, and that delicate moisture reminded me of eyes which become more expressive when veiled. "It was painful to me to leave her even for a short time, before I was again to see her at her house. After a few hours one is generally tired of the best company, and it is an art to know when to separate, in order to leave a good impression. As our friendship continued, it revealed new depths to me. "I was not to see her alone again. Miss Pearson and M. Portal, the French professor, were invited also. The latter is a very young man, distinguished and certainly in love with Mlle. de Sézery. As to Miss Pearson, I was prepared to meet an old governess. She is scarcely forty, and her very smart gown, though subdued, indicated a woman of the world, rather than the principal of a boarding school. After dinner she showed us a programme with this heading: 'Royal Naval and Military Tournament,' and suggested that we go to Olympia where it was taking place. "'To you,' she assured me, 'this will be more interesting than any of our theaters. I have a box.' "So it was decided. As a mark of courtesy, I got into the same hansom with Miss Pearson, but throughout the drive she spoke of nothing but Mlle. de Sézery: