y went
on talking for another quarter of an hour he recognized, without framing
the admission in words, that Miss Campion was an exceedingly well-read
person, and that she knew many authors--even poets--with whom he had the
slightest acquaintance. Most of the people whom he met talked idle
nonsense to him, as though their main object was to pass the time, or
else they aired a superficial knowledge of the uppermost thoughts and
theories of the day, gleaned as a rule from the cheap primers and
magazine articles in which a bustled age is content to study its
science, art, economy, politics, and religion. But here was a woman who
had been a voracious reader, who had gone to the fountain-head for her
facts, and who yet spoke with the air of one who wanted to learn, rather
than to display.

"We have had a very pleasant talk," he said to her at last. "I mean that
I have found it very pleasant. I am going now to dine at my club, and
shall spend my evening over a monologue which has suggested itself since
I entered this room. As you know the Grahams I may hope to meet you
again, there if not here. A talk with you, Miss Campion, is what the
critics in the _Acropolis_ might call very suggestive!"

Again Lettice thought the manner and the speech affected, but there was
an air of sincerity about the man which seemed to be fighting down the
affectation. She hardly knew whether she liked him or not, but she knew
that he had interested her and made her talk--for which two things she
half forgave him the affectation.

"I knew you two would get on together," said Mrs. Hartley, who came up
at the moment and dropped into Alan Walcott's chair. "I am not easily
deceived in my friends, and I was sure you would have plenty to say to
each, other. I have been watching you, and I declare it was quite a case
of conversation at first sight. Now, mind you come to me often, Miss
Campion. I feel that I shall like you."

And the fat good-natured little woman nodded her grey head to emphasize
the compliment.

"It is kind of you to say that," said Lettice, warmly. "I will certainly
take you at your word."

"My dear," said Mrs. Hartley, when Alan Walcott had left them, "he is a
very nice and clever man--but, oh, so melancholy! He makes me feel quite
unhappy. I never saw him so animated as he was just now, and it must be
thoroughly good for him to be drawn out in that way."

"I suppose it is the natural mood of poets," Lettice answered with a
smil