you were at sea. We had it fixed up. And now it is all
over, and I have to stay here and live through--what? I don't know.'

"'But I understood Captain Macedoine to hint that you were his
favourite,' I observed.

"'That's his way of talking. Mother thinks he's wonderful. Of course, if
his investments went up, as they might if there was a revolution, he
would be pretty rich. But just now his business doesn't bring in much.
And it was Kinaitsky who started him in it. He owes Kinaitsky a lot of
money.'

"'And you think you would like to go to England?' I said. She shrugged
her shoulders, and made a movement of her hand as though casting
something away. 'No use talking about it,' she returned, gruffly. I was
silent, and after she had watched me for a moment she came over quickly
and sat down beside me again.

"'Pardon,' she whispered, 'but I had so little time. I knew you would go
away and I had to speak. I thought you might not be angry.'

"'I am not,' I said, 'only sorry. You had made a very special place for
yourself in my memory,' I went on. 'I wish you had not disillusioned me.
You were entirely charming. Why should you go and spoil it all? I would
have thought of you always as my friend's friend....'

"She sat in a tense, eager pose looking up into my face, a pose that
suddenly relaxed and she sighed. I did not see it then, in my exalted
mood of idealized emotion; but I don't suppose a woman values any
reputation less than one for altruistic charm. Probably because she is
aware of its inevitably spurious nature. Miss Sarafov sighed, and the
intense vitality of her features was obscured for an instant as by a
shadow. An idea seemed to strike her and she looked intently at me
again.

"'Women don't matter much to you,' she observed, quietly, and fell
silent again.

"And here again," said Mr. Spenlove, "was a picture which comes back to
me now--the scene in that little _kiosque_, a circular chamber crowded
with the brilliant and disturbing reflections of the sunlight on the
surface of the sea, shadow and gleam moving in complex rhythm across our
faces and figures as we sat there, two beings destined to be forever
strangers. She came into view for a little space, and vanished again, a
mysterious, alluring, and magical presence, yet conveying no hint of any
misfortune. She gave the impression of an easy and felicitous balance of
forces, a complex of resilient strength, to which we poor Anglo-Saxons
rarely attain.