"I don't like poetry," Sylvia interrupted. "I don't believe it ever. Nobody really talks like that when they're in love." "Quite true," said the stranger. "Poets have often ere this been charged with exaggeration. Perhaps I wrong you in attributing to you the poetic temperament. Yes, on second thoughts, I'm sure I do. You are an eminently practical young lady. I won't say prosaic, because the word has been debased. I suspect by the poets who are always uttering base currency of thoughts and words and emotions. Dear me, this is a most delightful adventure." "Adventure?" repeated Sylvia. "Our meeting," the stranger explained. "Do you call that an adventure?" said Sylvia, contemptuously. "Why, I've had adventures much more exciting than this." "I told you that your temperament was anti-poetic," said the stranger. "How severe you are with my poor gossamers. You are like the Red Queen. You've seen adventures compared with which this is really an ordinary afternoon walk." "I don't understand half you're saying," said Sylvia. "Who's the Red Queen? Why was she red?" "Why was Sylvia Scarlett?" the stranger laughed. "I don't think that's a very good joke," said Sylvia, solemnly. "It wasn't, and to make my penitence, if you'll let me, I'll visit you at Earl's Court and present you with copies of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and through The Looking-glass_." "Books," said Sylvia, in a satisfied tone. "All right. When will you come? To-morrow?" The stranger nodded. "What are you?" Sylvia asked, abruptly. "My name is Iredale--Philip Iredale. No profession." "Are you what's called a gentleman?" Sylvia went on. "I hope most people would so describe me," said Mr. Iredale. "I asked you that," Sylvia said, "because I never met a gentleman before. I don't think Jimmy Monkley was a gentleman, and Arthur Madden was too young. Perhaps the Emperor of Byzantium was a gentleman." "I hope so indeed," said Mr. Iredale. "The Palaeologos family is an old one. Did you meet the Emperor in the course of your Oriental studies? Shall I meet him in the Hall of a Thousand and One Marvels?" Sylvia told him the story of the Emperor's reception, which seemed to amuse him very much. "Where do you live?" Sylvia asked. "Well, I live in Hampshire generally, but I have rooms in the Temple." "The Temple of who?" Sylvia asked, grandly. "Mammon is probably the dedication, but by a legal fiction the titular god is suppressed." "Do you believe in God?" Sylvia asked. "My dear Miss Scarlett, I protest that such a question so abruptly put in a cemetery is most unfair." "Don't call me Miss Scarlett. It makes me feel like a girl in a shop. Call me Sylvia. That's my name."