Manella glanced him over with quite a superior air. "Ah, perhaps you do not know!" And she waved her hands expressively. "There was a wonderful lady came here to see him some weeks ago--she stole up the hill at night, like a spirit--a little, little fairy woman with golden hair--" Gwent pricked up his ears and stood at attention. "Yes? Really? You don't say so! 'A little fairy woman'? Sounds like a story!" "She wore the most lovely clothes"--went on Manella, clasping her hands in ecstasy--"She stayed at the Plaza one night--I waited upon her. I saw her in her bed--she had skin like satin, and eyes like blue stars--her hair fell nearly to her ankles--she was like a dream! And she went up the hill by moonlight all by herself, to find HIM!" Gwent listened with close interest. "And I presume she found him?" Manella nodded, and a sigh escaped her. "Oh, yes, she found him! He told me that. And I am sure--something tells me HERE" and she pressed one hand against her heart--"by the way he spoke--that he loves her!" "You seem to be a very observant young woman," said Gwent, smiling--"One would think you were in love with him yourself!" She raised her large dark eyes to his with perfect frankness. "I am!" she said--"I see no shame in that! He is a fine man--it is good to love him!" Gwent was completely taken aback. Here was primitive passion with a vengeance!--passion which admitted its own craving without subterfuge. Manella's eyes were still uplifted in a kind of childlike confidence. "I am happy to love him!" she went on--"I wish only to serve him. He does not love ME--oh, no!--he loves HER! But he hates her too--ah!" and she gave a little shivering movement of her shoulders--"There is no love without hate!--and when one loves and hates with the same heart-beat, THAT is a love for life and death!" She checked herself abruptly--then with a simplicity which was not without dignity added--"I am saying too much, perhaps? But you are his friend--and I think he must be very lonely up there!"