feel
in much the same way."

"Nigel Armine and I, for instance?"

A sudden light--was it a light of malice?--flashed in her brilliant
eyes.

"Yes, even Mr. Armine and you."

"I shall not ask you what they are."

"Perhaps the part of you which is woman has informed you."

Before she said "woman" she had paused. He felt that the word she had
thought of, and had wished to use, was "Jewish." Her knowledge of him,
while he disliked it because he disliked her, stirred up the part of him
which was mental into an activity which he enjoyed. And the enjoyment,
which she felt, increased her sense of her own value. Conversation ran
easily between them. He discovered, what he had already half suspected,
that, though not strictly intellectual--often another name for
boring--she was far more than merely shrewd. But her mentality seemed to
him hard as bronze. And as bronze reflects the light, her mentality
seemed to reflect all the cold lights in her nature. But he forgot the
stagnant town, the bald-headed man at the club window, the organ and
"The Manola." Despite her generalizing on men, with its unexpressed
avowal of her deep-seated belief in physical weapons, she had chosen
aright in her armoury. His brain had to acknowledge it. There again was
the link between them. When at last he got up to go, she said:

"I suppose you will soon be leaving London?"

"I expect to get away on the fifteenth. Are you staying on?"

"I dare say I shall. You wonder what I do here?"

"Yes."

"I am out a great deal on my balcony. When you came I was there."

She made a movement towards it.

"Would you like to see my view?"

"Thank you."

As he followed her through the window space, he was suddenly very
conscious of the physical charm that clung about her. All her movements
were expressive, seemed very specially hers. They were like an integral
part of a character--her character. They had almost the individuality of
an expression in the eyes. And in her character, in her individuality,
mingled with much he hated was there not something that charmed? He
asked himself the question as he stood near her on the balcony. And now,
escaped from her room, even at this height there came upon him again the
hot sluggishness of London. The sun was shining brightly, the air was
warm and still, the view was large and unimpeded; but he felt a strange,
almost tropical dreariness that seemed to him more dreadful than any
dreariness of winter.

"Do yo