don't 'love' you know!" she went on--"Love is too much of a bore.
YOU would find it so!"

"I should, indeed!" he said, with sudden energy--"It would be worse
than any imaginable torture!--to be 'loved' and looked after, and
watched and coddled and kissed--"

"Oh, surely no woman would want to kiss you!" she exclaimed--"Never!
THAT would be too much of a good thing!"

And she gave a little peal of laughter, merry as the lilt of a sky-lark
in the dawn. He stared at her angrily, moved by an insensate desire to
seize her and throw her down the hill like a bundle of rubbish.

"To kiss YOU," she said, "one would have to wear a lip-shield of
leather! As well kiss a bunch of nettles! No, no! I have quite a nice
little mouth--soft and rosy! I shouldn't like to spoil it by scratching
it against yours! It's curious how all men imagine women LIKE to kiss
them! They never grasp an idea of the frequent unpleasantness of the
operation! Now I'm going!"

"Thank God!" he ejaculated fervently.

"And don't worry yourself"--she continued, airily--"I shall not stay
long at the Plaza."

"Thank God again!" he interpolated.

"It would be too dull,--especially as I'm not shamming to be ill, like
you. Besides, I have work to do!--wonderful work! and I don't believe
in doing it shut up like a hermit. Humanity is my crucible!
Good-night,--good-bye!"

He checked her movement by a quick, imperious gesture.

"Wait!" he said--"Before you go I want you to know a bit of my mind--"

"Is it necessary?" she queried.

"I think so," he answered--"It will save you the trouble of ever trying
to see me again, which will be a relief to me, if not to you.
Listen!--and look at yourself with MY eyes--"

"Too difficult!" she declared--"I can look at nothing with your eyes
any more than you can with mine!"

"Madam--"

She uttered a little laughing "Oh!" and put her hand to her ears.

"Not 'Madam' for heaven's sake!" she exclaimed; "It sounds as if I were
either a queen or a dressmaker!"

His sombre eyes had no smile in them.

"How should you be addressed?" he demanded, "A woman of such wealth and
independence as you possess can hardly be called 'Miss' as if she were
in parental leading-strings!"

She looked up at the clear dark sky where the moon hung like a huge
silver air-ball.

"No, I suppose not!" she replied--"The old English word was 'Mistress.'
So quaint and pretty, don't you think?"

'Oh mistress mine, where are you roaming?