across the harbour, and the people in it were
singing. The music drifted over the water to us, so sad and
sweet and beguiling that I could have cried for very pleasure.
One of Mrs. Braddon's guests said to me:

"That is the soul of music with all its sense and earthliness
refined away."

I hadn't thought about him before--I hadn't even caught his
name in the general introduction. He was a tall, slight man,
with a worn, sensitive face and iron-grey hair--a quiet man
who hadn't laughed or talked. But he began to talk to me then,
and I forgot all about the others. I never had listened to
anybody in the least like him. He talked of books and music,
of art and travel. He had been all over the world, and had
seen everything everybody else had seen and everything they
hadn't too, I think. I seemed to be looking into an enchanted
mirror where all my own dreams and ideals were reflected back
to me, but made, oh, so much more beautiful!

On my way home after the Braddon people had left us somebody
asked me how I liked Paul Moore! The man I had been talking
with was Paul Moore, the great novelist! I was almost glad I
hadn't known it while he was talking to me--I should have been
too awed and reverential to have really enjoyed his
conversation. As it was, I had contradicted him twice, and he
had laughed and liked it. But his books will always have a new
meaning to me henceforth, through the insight he himself has
given me.

It is such meetings as these that give life its sparkle for
me. But much of its abiding sweetness comes from my friendship
with Margaret Raleigh. You will be weary of my rhapsodies over
her. But she is such a rare and wonderful woman; much older
then I am, but so young in heart and soul and freshness of
feeling! She is to me mother and sister and wise,
clear-sighted friend. To her I go with all my perplexities and
hopes and triumphs. She has sympathy and understanding for my
every mood. I love life so much for giving me such a
friendship!

This morning I wakened at dawn and stole away to the shore
before anyone else was up. I had a delightful run-away. The
long, low-lying meadows between "The Evergreens" and the shore
were dewy and fresh in that first light, that was as fine and
purely tinted as the heart of one of my white roses. On the
bea