iss
Delarayne," he pursued. "These when they are thwarted simply make one
sweetly miserable, languorously self-commiserating,--but it is your
pride and vanity that are concerned."

She regarded him now as one magnetised, hypnotised, petrified.

If every line of his face, and every sign in his whole person had not
convinced her of his exceptional character, she would have fled his
presence even now, never to confront him again.

"These are real savages when they are provoked," he went on suavely.
"What do they care for the destruction their anger brings upon your
body? They would devastate your whole beauty without scruple in order to
calm their tempestuous rage. They begin by undermining the trust you
feel in your own claims. They then proceed to keep you awake at night
and to toss you about in your bed, when you ought to be refreshing your
body with sleep; and, finally, when they have ravished your sleep, they
open your mind to all the hideous spectres and shapes that are always
waiting, like hungry unemployed, to get busy in a wakeful and anxious
brain."

"Lord Henry!" gasped the girl, starting as if to rise.

"I am saying these things for you, Miss Delarayne," he said quickly,
"because it is perhaps too much to expect you to say them yourself, and
because you will find that their expression will relieve you. Oh, if I
can only do that,--surely----"

She looked at him for a moment and noted the fervour in his face, the
energy in his hands, and the honest nobility of his eyes; and anxious as
she now felt to escape from his terrifying presence, she was riveted by
his personality and could not move.

"It was not only the prospect of having all your life to stroke the
cheeks of other people's children, Miss Delarayne, that you dreaded.
This is a natural, noble, splendid dread, it is true, which every woman
worthy of the name should feel when she reaches your age. But there is
something far more poisonous, far more harmful to your system in the
present situation, and that is the thought that you may have all your
life to stroke the cheeks of other people's children, thanks to a
creature who, delightful as she may be, you nevertheless rightly regard
not only as your subordinate, not only as your junior both in age and
claims, but also as one towards whom it is loathsome to you to feel any
such feelings as rivalry."

Cleopatra gripped the arms of her wicker chair, and turned eyes full of
horror upon her companion.