At that moment she took out her handkerchief. Even that action added to the completion of the mental picture I had formed. Her tiny square of lawn and lace exhaled a sweet odour. It was that of _peau d'Espagne_, the same subtle perfume used by the mysterious Edna! It filled my nostrils until I seemed intoxicated by its fragrance combined with her beauty. Her dress was discreetly _decollete_, and as she sat chatting to me with that bright vivaciousness which was so charming, her white neck slowly heaved and fell. She had, it seemed, been striving all the evening to get a tete-a-tete chat with me, but the chatter of that dreadful Irritating Woman and the requests made by Hickman had prevented her. As she gossiped with me, now and then waving her big feather fan, she conveyed to my mind an impression of extreme simplicity in the midst of the most wonderful complexity. She seemed to take the peculiar traits from many characters, and so mingle them that, like the combination of hues in a sunbeam, the effect was as one to the eye. I had studied her carefully each time we had met, and had found that she had something of the romantic enthusiasm of a Juliet, of the truth and constancy of a Helen, of the dignified purity of an Isabel, of the tender sweetness of a Viola, of the self-possession and intellect of a Portia--combined together so equally and so harmoniously that I could scarcely say that one quality predominated over the other. Her dignity was imposing, and stood rather upon the defensive; her submission, though unbounded, was not passive, and thus she stood wholly distinct in her sweetness from any woman I had ever met. The following day was one on which she was due to take her music-lesson, and I inquired whether I might, as usual, meet her and escort her across the Park. "You are really very kind," she responded; "but I fear I take up far too much of your time." "Not at all," I hastened to assure her. "I always enjoy our walks together." She smiled, but a moment later said-- "I fear that I shall be prevented from going to Hanover Square to-morrow, as I shall be making calls with mother. We've been neglecting to call of late, and have such a host to make." "Then I shan't see you at all to-morrow?" I said in deep disappointment. "No, I fear not," she answered. "As a matter of fact, my movements for the next few days are rather uncertain." "But you'll write and tell me when you are free?" I urged earnestly. "If you wish," she responded, smiling sweetly. Apparently she was in no wise averse to my companionship, a fact which had become to me more apparent now that she had induced her mother to invite me to their table. I endeavoured to extract from her some appointment, but she only whispered-- "Remember that our meetings are clandestine. Don't let them overhear us. Let's change the subject." And then she began to discuss several of the latest novels.