The evasion irritated her mood, awoke a longing to make him speak. She drew her chair nearer, bent forward, so that the brim of her great hat almost brushed his forehead and the fragrance of her overspread him. “Do you remember a picture you would n't show me in your studio? You called it a mad painter's dream. You said it was the Ideal Woman.” “_You_ said so,” replied Jimmie. “I should like to see it.” “It is mine no longer to show you,” said Jimmie. “I think you must have loved that woman very deeply.” She was tempting him as she had tempted no man before, feeling a cruel, senseless joy in it. His voice vibrated. “Yes. I loved her infinitely.” “What was she like?” “Like all the splendid flowers of the earth melted into one rose,” said Jimmie. “I wish some one had ever said that about me,” she whispered. “Many must have thought it.” “She must be a happy woman to be loved by you.” “By me? Who am I that I could bring happiness to a woman? I have never told her.” “Why not?” she whispered. “Do you suppose you can love a woman without her knowing it?” “In what way can the star be cognisant of the moth's desire?” said Jimmie, going back to the refrain of his love. “You a moth and she a star! You are a man and she is but a trumpery bit of female flesh that on a word would throw herself into your arms.” “No,” said Jimmie, hoarsely. “No, you don't know what you are saying.” The temptation to goad him was irresistible. “We are all of us alike, all of us. Tell her.” “I dare n't.” “Tell me who she is.” She looked at him full, with meaning in her eyes, which glowed like deep moons in the dusk. He brought all his courage into his glance. He was the master. She turned away her head in confusion, reading his love, his strength, his loyalty. A lesser man loving her would have thrown honour to the winds. A curious reverence of him filled her. She felt a small thing beside him. All doubts vanished forever. Her faith in him was as crystal clear as Aline's. “I have no right to mention her name,” he said after a pause. Norma leaned back in her chair and passed her handkerchief across her lips. “Would you do anything in the world she asked you?” she murmured. “I would go through hell for her,” said Jimmie. There was another span of silence, tense and painful. Jimmie broke it by saying: “Why should you concern yourself about my fantastic affairs? They merely belong to dreamland--to the twilight and the stillness. They have no existence in the living world.” “If I thought so, should I be sitting in the twilight and the stillness listening to you?” she asked. “Or even if I did, may I not enter into dreamland too for a few little minutes before the gates are closed to me forever? Why should you want to shut me out of it? Do you think much love has come my way? Yours are the only lips I have ever heard speak of it.” “Morland loves you,” said Jimmie, tremulously.