Miriam's eyes went back to the row of little curtained recesses in the gallery. The drapery that had flapped was now half withdrawn, the light from the glass roof fell upon the top of a head flung back and shaking its mane of hair. The profile was invisible, but the sheeny hair rippled in thick gilded waves almost to the floor.... How hateful of her, thought Miriam.... How beautiful. I should be just the same if I had hair like that ... that's Germany.... Lohengrin.... She stood adoring. "Stay and talk while I get on my togs," came Gertrude's voice from behind her curtains. Miriam glanced towards the marble steps. The little group had disappeared. She turned helplessly towards Gertrude's curtains. She could not think of anything to say to her. She was filled with apprehension. "I wonder what we shall do to-morrow," she presently murmured. "I don't," gasped Gertrude, towelling. Miriam waited for the prophecy. "Old Lahmann's back from Geneva," came the harsh panting voice. "Pastor Lahmann?" repeated Miriam. "None other, Madame." "Have you seen him?" went on Miriam dimly, wishing that she might be released. "Scots wha hae, no! But I saw Lily's frills." The billows of gold hair in the gallery were being piled up by two little hands--white and plump like Eve's, but with quick clever irritating movements, and a thin sweet self-conscious voice began singing "Du, meine _Seele_." Miriam lost interest in the vision.... They were all the same. Men liked creatures like that. She could imagine that girl married. "Lily and his wife were great friends," Gertrude was saying. "She's dead, you know." "_Is_ she," said Miriam emphatically. "She used to be always coming when I first came over, Scots wha--blow--got a pin, Hendy?... We shan't have his ... thanks, you're a saint ... his boys in the schoolroom any more now." "Are those Pastor Lahmann's boys?" said Miriam, noticing that Gertrude's hair was coarse, each hair a separate thread. "She's the wiry plucky kind. How she must despise me," said her mind. "Well," said Gertrude, switching back her curtain to lace her boots. "Long may Lily beam. I like summer weather myself." Miriam turned away. Gertrude half-dressed behind the curtains was too clever for her. She could not face her unveiled with vacant eyes. "The summer is jolly, isn't it?" she said uneasily. "You're right, my friend. Hullo! There's Emmchen looking for you. I expect the Germans have just finished their annual. They never come into the Schwimmbad, they're always too late. I should think you'd better toddle them home, Hendy--the darlings might catch cold." "Don't we all go together?" "We go as we are ready, from this establishment, just anyhow as long as we're not in ones or twos--Lily won't have twos, as I dare say you've observed. Be good, my che-hild," she said heartily, drawing on her second boot, "and you'll be happy--sehr sehr happy, I hope, Hendy." 7