was individual and singular: as she would have hated any other
country, had her unhappiness originated there.

"Will you not sing?" he asked. This was an inspiration. Music might
assist in melting her new reserve.

"You recollect, then, that I possess a voice?"

"It is all I have to recollect. Tell me, whither is all this to lead?"

"To the door, and into the fog again."

"On my word, I'm half inclined to believe you to be an anarchist or a
Red, or something on that order."

"On account of my hair?" She laughed again. "Put yourself at ease. I am
neither Leddy Lightfinger nor a socialist. There are no dynamite bombs
in this house. I despise any organization which aims to destroy society.
Society is bad enough as it is; but think of trying to readjust it!"

"I give up the puzzle."

"That is better."

It is difficult to seek and hold a pair of eyes partly hidden behind a
mask. Several times he made the attempt, but his eyes were first to
lower.

Her severity, her irony and her apparent lack of warmth were mere
matters of calculation. Her plan was to inspire him with trepidation, to
keep him always at arm's length, for his own safety as well as hers. She
knew something of men. Even the best, if suddenly thrown into an affair
so strange as this, might commit an irreparable blunder; and this she
did not want Hillard to do. She was secretly pleased with his strong
face and shapely head. There was neither beard nor mustache to hide the
virtues or defects. The chin was square but not heavy, the mouth
humorous, kindly and firm, the nose bridged; and the brown eyes, sleepy
yet with latent fires, were really handsome. She knew all about him; she
was not afraid to be alone with him; nor was it really necessary to wear
a mask. But the romance in her heart, that she believed to be dead, was
not dead, only waiting to be rekindled. True, they were never to meet
again; it was all to begin to-night and end to-night. No man was likely
to forget a face met under such whimsical and extraordinary
circumstances; so he must not have hers to remember. She arose.

"I will sing!"

"That is more than I dared to hope." He made as though to rise.

"Sit down. I do not play by note; my memory is very good. While I am
singing I should much prefer you to remain where you are."

He obeyed without protest, and she went to the piano. Above the
instrument was a rare old Venetian mirror; in it he could see her face
fairly well. And where had