dances she had notably improved in. She knew
some of them by heart and could patter them off with a very tasteful
vivacity. Instead of practising, she now played gently through a
slow waltz from memory. If the snoring man was wakened, so much
the worse--or so much the better! She went on playing, and evening
continued to fall, until she could scarcely see the notes. Then she
heard movements in the bedroom, a sigh, a bump, some English words
that she did not comprehend. She still, by force of resolution, went
on playing, to protect herself, to give herself countenance. At length
she saw a dim male figure against the pale oblong of the doorway
between the two rooms, and behind the figure a point of glowing red in
the stove.

"I say--what time is it?"

She recognised the heavy, resonant, vibrating voice. She had stopped
playing because she was making so many mistakes.

"Late--late!" she murmured timidly.

The next moment the figure was kneeling at her feet, and her left hand
had been seized in a hot hand and kissed--respectfully.

"Forgive me, you beautiful creature!" begged the deep, imploring
voice. "I know I don't deserve it. But forgive me! I worship women,
honestly."

Assuredly she had not expected this development. She thought: "Is he
not sober yet?" But the query had no conviction in it. She wanted
to believe that he was sober. At any rate he had removed the absurd
towels from his boots.

Chapter 18

THE MYSTIC

"Say you forgive me!" The officer insisted.

"But there is nothing--"

"Say you forgive me!"

She had counted on a scene of triumph with him when he woke up,
anticipating that he was bound to cut a ridiculous appearance. He
knelt dimly there without a sign of self-consciousness or false shame.
She forgave him.

"Great baby!"

Her hand was kissed again and loosed. She detected a faint, sad smile
on his face.

"Ah!"

He rose, towering above her.

"I know I'm a drunken sot," he said. "It was only because I knew I
was drunk that I didn't want to come with you last night. And I called
this morning to apologise. I did really. I'd no other thought in my
poor old head. I wanted you to understand why I tried to hit that
chap. The other woman had spoken to me earlier, and I suppose she was
jealous, seeing me with you. She said something to him about you, and
he laughed, and I had to hit him for laughing. I couldn't hit her. If
I'd caught him an upper cut with my left he'd have gone do