e seasick. All these years he had
been living with her in dreamland she had been, if he had only known
it, a Miss Somebody-or-other, who must have stood every morning in
front of a looking-glass with hairpins in her mouth. He had never
thought of her doing these things; it shocked him. He could not help
feeling it was indelicate of her--coming to life in this sudden,
uncalled-for manner.

He struggled with this new conception of her, and had almost forgiven
her, when a further and still more startling suggestion arrived to
plague him. If she really lived why should he not see her, speak to
her? So long as she had remained in her hidden temple, situate in the
vague recesses of London, S.E., her letters had contented him. But now
that she had moved, now that she was no longer a voice but a woman!
Well, it would be interesting to see what she was like. He imagined
the introduction: "Miss Somebody-or-other, allow me to present you to
Mr. Matthew Pole." She would have no idea he was Aston Rowant. If she
happened to be young, beautiful, in all ways satisfactory, he would
announce himself. How astonished, how delighted she would be.

But if not! If she were elderly, plain? The wisest, wittiest of women
have been known to have an incipient moustache. A beautiful spirit
can, and sometimes does, look out of goggle eyes. Suppose she suffered
from indigestion and had a shiny nose! Would her letters ever again
have the same charm for him? Absurd that they should not. But would
they?

The risk was too great. Giving the matter long and careful
consideration, he decided to send her back into dreamland.

But somehow she would not go back into dreamland, would persist in
remaining in New York, a living, breathing woman.

Yet even so, how could he find her? He might, say, in a poem convey to
her his desire for a meeting. Would she comply? And if she did, what
would be his position, supposing the inspection to result unfavourably
for her? Could he, in effect, say to her: "Thank you for letting me
have a look at you; that is all I wanted. Good-bye"?

She must, she should remain in dreamland. He would forget her
postscript; in future throw her envelopes unglanced at into the
wastepaper basket. Having by this simple exercise of his will replaced
her in London, he himself started for New York--on his way back to
Europe, so he told himself. Still, being in New York, there was no
reason for not lingering there