"I am sorry, Valerie," said I, "and that's the mischief of it." "I was so looking forward to your seeing me," she said tearfully. And then, with sudden petulance, she stamped her small foot. "It is horrid of you--perfectly horrid--and I never want to speak to you again." The last word ended in a sob. She rushed to the door, pushed me aside, as I endeavoured to stop her, and fled in a passion of tears. _Spretæ injuria formæ_! Women have remained much the same since the days of Juno. A miserable, remorseful being, I wandered through the Grandchester streets, to keep my appointment with Mr. Henry Deane. After a short interview he dismissed me with a good report of my eyes. Miss Deane, dressed for walking, met me in the hall as the servant was showing me out, and we went together into the street. "Well," she said with a touch of irony, "have you seen my cousin?" "Yes," said I. "Do you think her like me?" "I wish to Heaven she were!" I exclaimed fervently. "I shouldn't be swirling round in a sort of maelstrom." She looked steadily at me--I like her downrightness. "Do you mind telling me what you mean?" "I am in love with the personality of one woman and the face of another. And I never shall fall out of love with the face." "And the personality?" "God knows," I groaned. "I never conceived it possible for any man to fall in love with a face so hopelessly unattractive," she said with a smile. "It is beautiful," I cried. She looked at me queerly for a few seconds, during which I had the sensation of something odd, uncanny having happened. I was fascinated. I found myself saying: "What did you mean by the 'sweet irresponsibility of man'?" She put out her hand abruptly and said good-bye. I watched her disappear swiftly round a near corner, and I went, my head buzzing with her, back to my hotel. In the evening I dined with Dr. Deane. I had no opportunity of seeing Valerie alone. In a whisper she begged forgiveness. I relented. Her beauty and charm would have mollified a cross rhinoceros. The love in her splendid eyes would have warmed a snow image. The pressure of her hand at parting brought back the old Valerie, and I knew I loved her desperately. But inwardly I groaned, because she had not the face of my dreams. I hated her beauty. As soon as the front door closed behind me, my head began to buzz again with the other Valerie. I lay awake all night. The two Valeries wove themselves inextricably together in my hopes and longings. I worshipped a composite chimera. When the grey dawn stole through my bedroom window, the chimera vanished, but a grey dubiety dawned upon my soul. Day invested it with a ghastly light. I rose a shivering wreck and fled from Grandchester by the first train.