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“You will have to eat soon,” he said cryptically. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. He seemed to stay away from her because she was so cold and formal towards him, addressing him as Mister McCloskey as if she were an Irish maid. It seemed incredible that she and her aunt were, indeed, creatures of the same blood, only by a birth or so different beings, and part of that same broad interlacing stream of human life that has invented the fauns and nymphs, Astarte, Aphrodite, Freya, and all the twining beauty of the gods. You desire to know who he was, Sir Rowland. Day by day she followed the spiritual and physical contest between this man and woman. Funny codgers, aren't they?" he said. But to-day he did not get beyond half a dozen desultory start-offs.

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