ce that they seemed to emphasise his singularity. There was a
peculiar lack of comfort, which suggested that he was indifferent to
material things. The room was large, but so cumbered that it gave a
cramped impression. Haddo dwelt there as if he were apart from any
habitation that might be his. He moved cautiously among the heavy
furniture, and his great obesity was somehow more remarkable. There was
the acrid perfume which Margaret remembered a few days before in her
vision of an Eastern city.

Asking her to sit down, he began to talk as if they were old
acquaintances between whom nothing of moment had occurred. At last
she took her courage in both hands.

'Why did you make me come here?' she asked suddenly,

'You give me credit now for very marvellous powers,' he smiled.

'You knew I should come.'

'I knew.'

'What have I done to you that you should make me so unhappy? I want you
to leave me alone.'

'I shall not prevent you from going out if you choose to go. No harm has
come to you. The door is open.'

Her heart beat quickly, painfully almost, and she remained silent. She
knew that she did not want to go. There was something that drew her
strangely to him, and she was ceasing to resist. A strange feeling began
to take hold of her, creeping stealthily through her limbs; and she was
terrified, but unaccountably elated.

He began to talk with that low voice of his that thrilled her with a
curious magic. He spoke not of pictures now, nor of books, but of life.
He told her of strange Eastern places where no infidel had been, and her
sensitive fancy was aflame with the honeyed fervour of his phrase. He
spoke of the dawn upon sleeping desolate cities, and the moonlit nights
of the desert, of the sunsets with their splendour, and of the crowded
streets at noon. The beauty of the East rose before her. He told her
of many-coloured webs and of silken carpets, the glittering steel of
armour damascened, and of barbaric, priceless gems. The splendour of the
East blinded her eyes. He spoke of frankincense and myrrh and aloes, of
heavy perfumes of the scent-merchants, and drowsy odours of the Syrian
gardens. The fragrance of the East filled her nostrils. And all these
things were transformed by the power of his words till life itself
seemed offered to her, a life of infinite vivacity, a life of freedom,
a life of supernatural knowledge. It seemed to her that a comparison was
drawn for her attention between the narrow rou