He kept secret assignations, which were not openly supposed to be secret by either Mrs. Shiffney or himself. For Mrs. Shiffney was leading him gently, savoring nuances, while he was feeling blatant, though saved by his breeding from showing it. They had some charming, some almost exciting talks, full of innuendo, of veiled allusions to personal feeling and the human depths. And all this was mingled with art and the great life of human ambition. Mrs. Shiffney's attraction to artists was a genuine thing in her. She really felt the pull of that which was secretly powerful in Claude. And she, not too consciously, made him know this. The knowledge drew him toward her. One day Claude went to see her after a long rehearsal. When he reached the hotel it was nearly eight o'clock. The rehearsal of his opera had only been stopped because it had been necessary to get ready for the evening performance. Claude had promised to dine with Van Brinen that night, and Charmian was dining with some friends. But, at the last moment, Van Brinen had telephoned to say that he was obliged to go to a concert on behalf of his paper. Claude had left the opera house, weary, excited, doubtful what to do. If he returned to the St. Regis he would be all alone. At that moment he dreaded solitude. After hesitating for a moment outside the stage door, he called a taxi-cab, and ordered the man to drive to the Ritz-Carlton Hotel. Mrs. Shiffney would probably be out, would almost certainly have some engagement for the evening. The hour was unorthodox for a visit. Claude did not care. He had been drowned in his own music for hours. He was in a strongly emotional condition, and wanted to do something strange, something bizarre. He sent up his name to Mrs. Shiffney, who was at home. In a few moments she sent down to say she would see him in her sitting-room. When Claude came into it he found her there in an evening gown. "Do forgive me! You're going out?" he said. "Where are you dining?" she answered. Claude made a vague gesture. "Have you come to dine with me?" she said, smiling. "But I see you are going out!" She shook her powerful head. "We will dine up here. But I must telephone to a number in Fifth Avenue." She went toward the telephone. "Oh, but I can't keep you at home. It is too outrageous!" he said. "Give me time to telephone!" she answered, looking round at him over her shoulder. "You are much too kind!" he said. "I--I looked in to settle about your coming to that rehearsal." She got on to the number in Fifth Avenue and spoke through the telephone softly. "There! That's done! And now help me to order a dinner for--" she glanced at him shrewdly--"a tired genius." Claude smiled. They consulted together, amicably arranging the menu. The dinner was brought quickly, and they sat down, one on each side of a round table decorated with lilies of the valley.