of yourself!--that is just what I have come to see."

The position was hopeless. So I began to talk about the weather, which
is disagreeable enough from sirocco in the hot spring months (it was the
end of October) to be useful.

Presently the daughter of the house came up to me, and said:

"Do, please, go on telling us your interesting experiences, Miss Bates;
we can talk about other things at any time, and we asked Mrs Burroughes
on purpose to meet you."

The lady in question had joined another group by this time, so I was
able to whisper in reply: "I am so very sorry, but I cannot possibly
talk of these things before your friend--she paralyses me absolutely
from any psychic point of view. She is very handsome, and I like looking
at her, but I cannot talk to her except about the weather."

"How very odd!" was the unexpected reply. "That is just what Lizzie
Maynard says. And I did very much want Lizzie to hear about America too,
but she has gone off to the other end of the room, saying she knows you
won't be able to talk whilst Mrs Burroughes is here."

This was interesting, for I had not noticed the young girl mentioned,
who had not been introduced to me. So when my young hostess asked "if
she might bring Lizzie to see me at my hotel next day," I gladly
acquiesced, in spite of feeling very far from well at the moment.

This feeling of _malaise_ increased in the night, and was, in fact, the
precursor of a short but sharp attack of a form of typhoid which was
running through the hotel at the time. Being in bed next afternoon about
four o'clock, I was dismayed to hear that Miss Maynard had arrived to
see me, and, moreover, had arrived _alone_. I had never spoken to the
girl nor even consciously set eyes on her before, but I knew she must
have come at least three miles from the suburb where she lived, and
would probably refuse to have a cup of tea downstairs during my absence.
There was nothing for it, therefore, but to make an effort, order tea to
be brought for her to my room, and send a message hoping she would not
mind seeing me in my bedroom.

She came up--a modest, charming-looking girl of about twenty. I
explained the circumstances, and apologised for being unable to join in
the tea-party, but felt rather desperate when I realised that even the
effort of taking any share in the conversation was beyond me.

Suddenly a brilliant idea passed through my throbbing head. The day
before, in planning the visit, wh