g on
cushions and the grass. Once past the exclamatory stage, she seemed a
great talker, laying bare her little soul with perfect liberality. And
Gyp--excellent listener--enjoyed it, as one enjoys all confidential
revelations of existences very different from one's own, especially when
regarded as a superior being.

"Of course I don't mean to stay at home any longer than I can help; only
it's no good going out into life"--this phrase she often used--"till you
know where you are. In my profession, one has to be so careful. Of
course, people think it's worse than it is; father gets fits sometimes.
But you know, Mrs. Fiorsen, home's awful. We have mutton--you know what
mutton is--it's really awful in your bedroom in hot weather. And there's
nowhere to practise. What I should like would be a studio. It would be
lovely, somewhere down by the river, or up here near you. That WOULD be
lovely. You know, I'm putting by. As soon as ever I have two hundred
pounds, I shall skip. What I think would be perfectly lovely would be to
inspire painters and musicians. I don't want to be just a common
'turn'--ballet business year after year, and that; I want to be something
rather special. But mother's so silly about me; she thinks I oughtn't to
take any risks at all. I shall never get on that way. It IS so nice to
talk to you, Mrs. Fiorsen, because you're young enough to know what I
feel; and I'm sure you'd never be shocked at anything. You see, about
men: Ought one to marry, or ought one to take a lover? They say you
can't be a perfect artist till you've felt passion. But, then, if you
marry, that means mutton over again, and perhaps babies, and perhaps the
wrong man after all. Ugh! But then, on the other hand, I don't want to
be raffish. I hate raffish people--I simply hate them. What do you
think? It's awfully difficult, isn't it?"

Gyp, perfectly grave, answered:

"That sort of thing settles itself. I shouldn't bother beforehand."

Miss Daphne Wing buried her perfect chin deeper in her hands, and said
meditatively:

"Yes; I rather thought that, too; of course I could do either now. But,
you see, I really don't care for men who are not distinguished. I'm sure
I shall only fall in love with a really distinguished man. That's what
you did--isn't it?--so you MUST understand. I think Mr. Fiorsen is
wonderfully distinguished."

Sunlight, piercing the shade, suddenly fell warm on Gyp's neck where her
blouse