ues beyond its
pictured sweetness? But I think, mingled with whatever motives she may
have had, there must have been some desire to be a nobler, that is a
more useful woman than she had been.

She had not any superabundance of feminine delicacy, though she had
plenty of good-breeding, and she trusted to her position in society to
cover the eccentricity of her present undertaking.

One morning after breakfast she called upon Falconer; and accustomed
to visits from all sorts of people, Mrs. Ashton showed her into his
sitting-room without even asking her name. She found him at his piano,
apologized, in her fashionable drawl, for interrupting his music, and
accepted his offer of a chair without a shade of embarrassment. Falconer
seated himself and sat waiting.

'I fear the step I have taken will appear strange to you, Mr. Falconer.
Indeed it appears strange to myself. I am afraid it may appear stranger
still.'

'It is easy for me to leave all judgment in the matter to yourself,
Miss--I beg your pardon; I know we have met; but for the moment I cannot
recall your name.'

'Lady Georgina Betterton,' drawled the visitor carelessly, hiding
whatever annoyance she may have felt.

Falconer bowed. Lady Georgina resumed.

'Of course it only affects myself; and I am willing to take the risk,
notwithstanding the natural desire to stand well in the opinion of any
one with whom even my boldness could venture such a step.'

A smile, intended to be playful, covered the retreat of the sentence.
Falconer bowed again. Lady Georgina had yet again to resume.

'From the little I have seen, and the much I have heard of you--excuse
me, Mr. Falconer--I cannot help thinking that you know more of the
secret of life than other people--if indeed it has any secret.'

'Life certainly is no burden to me,' returned Falconer. 'If that implies
the possession of any secret which is not common property, I fear it
also involves a natural doubt whether such secret be communicable.'

'Of course I mean only some secret everybody ought to know.'

'I do not misunderstand you.'

'I want to live. You know the world, Mr. Falconer. I need not tell
you what kind of life a girl like myself leads. I am not old, but the
gilding is worn off. Life looks bare, ugly, uninteresting. I ask you to
tell me whether there is any reality in it or not; whether its past glow
was only gilt; whether the best that can be done is to get through with
it as fast as possible?'