I was a languid and cynical guest at many high-brow and low-brow gatherings. I discussed Turgenieff, spiritualism, psycho-analysis, free love, and so forth at the one until my ears burned; and polo, the Dempsey-Carpentier match, women, politics and stocks at the other until I could start my tongue going and go away and leave it. But I made little progress and unearthed no fresh clews. I did make a little progress, however. For one thing, I cultivated the acquaintanceship of Mrs. Fawcette until it ripened into something much more intimate, though vague and undefined. She was, I found, an interesting woman, well-traveled and well-read, and, better still, with very definite views on most things. She had a clever gift of repartee, as I learned to my cost, for I found myself several times considerably beyond my depth and somewhat at a loss. Her views were strikingly, glaringly liberal, and although I attempted to match her in cynical disregard of the conventions of conversation, I think she suspected that my views were not quite so disillusioned and opportunistic as I tried to make them appear. At all events she seemed to take a secret delight in attempting to startle me, and succeeded better than, I hope, she guessed. But I got no news from her. However, I formed a real friendship during those three weeks which meant far more to me, however little it might mean to our quest. For I arranged a second opportunity to meet and talk with the Girl in Gray, as I like to call her. And after that I obtained her permission, and that of her aunt, to call upon them. After that call and a theater party which I gave for them, we were good friends. It was my playtime, before the serious part of our quest began, and it meant more to me than I can express. Natalie Van Cleef took her many social experiences and the many strange specimens she met during her energetic aunt’s peregrinations with a ready sympathy and a sweet reserve that were inspiring to watch. She was welcome everywhere, as much for her lovely personality as for her beauty, but somehow she contrived to be a welcome addition to each circle without being exactly of it. She was essentially innocent without being ignorant, so that the unconventional moods and tenses with which she came into contact left her comprehending, at least in part, and yet quite untouched in her own sweet, calm, and slightly shy personality. To me during those days she was like a breath of sea air in a crowded department store, or a bunch of roses on a tramp steamer, and before many days had passed she filled most of my waking thoughts and many of my dreams. We saw a good deal of each other and had many happy days together, days so happy, at least to me, that I can never think of them without a catch in the throat and a tightening of the hands, in view of what came after. For as our friendship ripened I grew to realize that her mind and spirit were as sweet and lovely and gracious as her person.