held her hand all the time while she had been speaking. She
pressed his now, with an impulse of frank loyalty, and dropped it
suddenly.

'Do you mean that I may not even come and see you?' he asked.

'Not till after my _debut_,' answered Margaret in a decided tone, for
she felt that she dominated him at last. 'You don't want me to be a
singer and I cannot help feeling your opposition. It disturbs me, as
the time comes near. Of course I can't hinder you from being there on
the first night----'

'No indeed!'

'And when you've heard me, and seen Gilda's head come out of the sack,
and when the curtain has gone down on Rigoletto's despair--why, then
you may come behind and congratulate me, especially if I've made a
failure! Till then I don't want to see you, please!'

'I cannot wait so long. It is nearly three weeks.'

Margaret stood up very straight in the doorway, already past him and
free to go out.

'Since I am willing to forgive you for losing your head just now,' she
said, 'it's for me to decide whether you may ever see me again, and if
so when, and where. I've been very good to you. Now I am going.'

It seemed to him that she had grown all at once in strength and
individuality till there was nothing for him to do but to submit. This
was an illusion, no doubt; she was just what she had always been, and
what he had always judged her, a gifted young woman, rather inclined to
flirt and easily guided in any direction, whose exuberant animal
vitality might pass for strong character in the eyes of an
inexperienced innocent like Lushington, but could not deceive an old
hand like Logotheti for a moment. Nevertheless, when she had spoken her
last words and was leading the way out of the room, Logotheti felt a
little like a small boy who has had his ears boxed for being too
cheeky, which is a sensation not at all pleasant or natural to an old
hand.

As he took her down in the little lift, he vaguely wondered whether he
had ever thought of her till now except as an animated work of art;
comparable in beauty with his encaustic painting or his dearly loved
Aphrodite; worth more than either of them as a possible possession, as
life is worth more than stone, and endowed with a divine voice; but
having neither soul, intelligence, nor will to speak of, nor any
original power of ruling others, still less of resisting a systematic
and prolonged attack.

The change had come quickly. Logotheti thought of beautiful beings of