"Everybody has ideas of a sort, I suppose. What I mean is, I can’t discuss any of the subjects that really matter. Religion, for instance. I know there are a thousand and one different ways of worshiping God, but I haven’t brains enough to argue about them. I’m far more interested in a thousand different patterns for crochet, or the everyday things you see from the top of a bus. I’m just hot and cold, or happy or miserable." "Which is it to-day?" asked Chalfont. There was no flippancy in his tone. He saw that Maggy was an innately simple girl, quite natural, and by no means unintelligent. He found her frankness very refreshing, and he could but admire her delightful appearance. He was anything but bored. "Which is it to-day?" he repeated. "Warm and happy—just now. I’m not often miserable. I love my life," she said. She meant it. The pretty room, the flowers abounding in it, the shaded windows framing masses of pink geranium, the soft ease of the big armchair she was seated in, so different from the new-art, unadaptable chairs of her own flat, had induced in her bodily comfort and mental contentment. For the moment she had forgotten the anxieties caused by her physical state. Unconsciously too she had fallen under the charm of Chalfont’s amiability. She had never met a man like him. She felt she did not want to be on her guard with him. Whether he was more honest or more reasonable than other men she had known she did not stop to think about. Had she been asked for her chief impression of him she would have expressed it in the word clean. So while she waited for Alexandra’s return she let her candor have full play, keeping Chalfont amused by her cheery talk and quaintly humorous accounts of her life behind the scenes at the Pall Mall. She had brought with her a number of picture postcards of herself to give to Alexandra, for recently she had become quite a photographic favorite, and these she showed him. "This is the one I like best," he said. "In the dress you have on now. It’s charming." "The dress, you mean. I’m so glad you like it. I was afraid it was too quiet. I’m never quite sure about my dresses and hats. My taste in clothes isn’t always quiet. I love bright colors. They make me feel warm and comfy. You know how dogs like rolling in mud. I have the same feeling about colors. If I see anything very bright and gorgeous I want to hug it to me for joy. People are always staring at me in the street because of what I’m wearing." Chalfont could quite understand that any one, in the street or elsewhere, would find pleasure in looking twice at such a beautiful creature. But he did not say so in so many words. "You need not mind that," he said. "There’s an esthetic sense in nearly everybody that makes them glad to look at anything—radiant." "Radiant means brilliance, doesn’t it? Talking of brilliance, do you like this?"