or really was more friendly.
I _knew_ that I was taking an unfair advantage of her--but I
continued--Men are really brutes after all!--and gloried in my power
every time the slightest indication showed that I possessed it! I lost
some of my diffidence--If I could only have stood upon two feet and seen
with two eyes--I know that even the morning would have ended by my
taking her in my arms, cost what might; but as I was glued to my chair
she was enabled always at this stage to stay out of reach--and fenced
gallantly with me by silence and stiff answers--but by luncheon time
there was a distinct gain on my side--I had made her feel something, I
no longer was a nonentity who did not count--.

Her skin is so transparent that the colour fluctuates with every
emotion. I love to watch it. What a mercy that I had very strong
sight!--for my one eye sees quite clearly.

At luncheon we talked of the time of the Fronde--Alathea is so
wonderfully well read. I make dashes into all sorts of subjects, and
find she knows more of them than I do myself--What a mind she must have
to have acquired all this in her short twenty-three years.

"You are not thinking of leaving Paris, I hope when you move," I said as
we drank coffee. "I am going to begin another book directly this one is
finished."

"It is not yet decided," she answered abruptly.

"I could not write without you."

Silence.

"I would love to think that you took an interest in teaching me how to
be an author--."

The faintest shrug of the shoulders--.

"You don't take any interest?"

"No."

"Are not you very unkind?"--

"No--If you have anything to complain of in my work I will listen
attentively and try and alter it."

"You will never allow the slightest friendship?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Why should I?"

"I must be grateful even that you ask a question, I suppose--Well, I
don't know quite myself why you should--You think I am a rotter--You
despise my character--you think my life is wasted and that--er--I have
undesirable friends."

Silence.

"Miss Sharp! you drive me crazy never answering--I can't think why you
like to be so provoking!" I was stung to exasperation.

"Sir Nicholas," and she put down her cup with displeasure--"If you will
not keep to the subject of work--I am sorry but I cannot stay as your
secretary."

Terror seized me--.

"I shall have to if you insist upon it--I suppose--but I am longing to
be friends with you--and I can't think why y