experience of
Wagner; it would be interesting to hear what he has to say."

Louise was moody and preoccupied, but Dove's words made her smile.

"Let us ask him," she said.

They quickened their steps and overtook the others. And when Dove,
without further ado, had marched round to Ephie's side, Louise, left
slightly to herself, called Maurice back to her.

"Mr. Guest, we want your opinion of the WALKURE."

Confused to find her suddenly beside him, Maurice was still more
disconcerted at the marked way in which she slackened her pace to let
the other two get in front. Believing, too, that he heard a note of
mockery in her voice, he coloured and hesitated. Only a moment ago he
had had several things worth saying on his tongue; now they would not
out. He stammered a few words, and broke down in them half-way. She
said nothing, and after one of the most embarrassing pauses he had ever
experienced, he avowed in a burst of forlorn courage: "To tell the
truth, I did not hear much of the music."

But Louise, who had merely exchanged one chance companion for another,
did not ask the reason, or display any interest in his confession, and
they went on in silence. Maurice looked stealthily at her: her white
scarf had slipped back and her wavy head was bare. She had not heard
what he said, he told himself; her thoughts had nothing to do with him.
But as he stole glances at her thus, unreproved, he wakened to a sudden
consciousness of what was happening to him: here and now, after long
weeks of waiting, he was walking at her side; he knew her, was alone
with her, in the summer darkness, and, though a cold hand gripped his
throat at the thought, he took the resolve not to let this moment pass
him by, empty-handed. He must say something that would rouse her to the
fact of his existence; something that would linger in her mind, and
make her remember him when he was not there. But they were half way
down the GRIMMAISCHESTRASSE; at the end, where the PETERSTRASSE crossed
it, Dove and the Cayhills would branch off, and Madeleine return to
them. He had no time to choose his phrases.

"When I was introduced to you this afternoon, Miss Dufrayer, you did
not know who I was," he said bluntly. "But I knew you very well--by
sight, I mean, of course. I have seen you often--very often."

He had done what he had hoped to do, had arrested her attention. She
turned and considered him, struck by the tone in which he spoke.

"The first time I s