To-day she felt a tenderness for him such as she had not experienced since the days of her early youth. It was, too, a motherly, a sisterly tenderness, and something else besides--something like a shimmer of light drawing nearer and nearer from the distance. "Tell me, Herr Fritz," she demanded, pausing in front of him, "tell me honestly, have you ever loved in all your life?" He jumped as if he had been struck, "Loved? What do you mean?" "Well, what should I mean?" she laughed, drumming with her fingers on the back of the rocking-chair. "What should I mean?" He seemed to breathe more freely. "For love, properly speaking, I have neither the time nor the inclination," he said. "And no woman has ever loved you?" "Do I look," he asked, shrugging his shoulders, "as if anyone could love me?" His utter despondency irritated her. But she turned it off with a playful "Now, now!" and shook her finger at him. Again he looked alarmed, as if the mere suggestion of such a possibility filled him with anxiety. The poor fellow! Never had a girl's eyes glowingly sought his; never had a woman's arms encircled his neck in rapture. The highest pleasure--the only thing that both for man and woman makes life worth living--he had been denied. A confession burned on her lips, a confession dating from far-off, half-forgotten times, which would have told him how mistaken he was. But she choked it back. Not to-day; perhaps later, when it came to saying farewell. It grew dark, and the light reflected from the street-lamps played on wall and ceiling. The monkey had curled himself up in a ball under his coat, and the little bullfinch had gone to roost. Lilly still continued her pacing up and down, lightly brushing his elbow each time she passed the rocking-chair. At last she paused again in front of him. There he sat, he whom she had once adored so passionately, and he was quite ignorant of it. Quite ignorant of all the miracles woman's love can work. The poor, poor unfortunate creature! "You really ought to get your hair cut," she said with a nervous laugh, "and then perhaps you'll have a better chance with the women." Slowly she lifted her left hand, which felt as if a weight was hanging to it, and laid it on his rough wavy hair. It rebounded from her gentle touch like an air-cushion. He started, stopped rocking himself in the chair, looked round uneasily, and gave a cough. "Yes, yes," he said after a silence, "that's sensible advice. If I want to make a favourable impression when I enter on my new vocation, I ought----" Just then he turned his head sharply towards the window, and her hand glided down of its own accord on to his neck. She choked back a sigh, and he stood up and hurriedly took his leave. She was so embarrassed that she did not press him to stay longer. The servant was standing outside in the passage, with the lamp in her hand to light him downstairs. "The day after to-morrow I shall expect you," Lilly called after him from the window.