lmost chance remark of his, towards the end of the meal, anent the
mysticism, the spiritism of the East, and the growing cult of the same
order in the West, appeared to suddenly wake her from her dreaminess.
Her dark eyes were turned quickly up to his, a new and eager light
flashed in them.

"Do you know," she said, her tone low enough to be caught only by him,
"that it was only the expectation of meeting you, and hearing you talk of
the occult, of that wondrous mysticism of the East, that made me accept
the invitation to this house--that is, I should add, at this particular
time, for I _had_ arranged to go to my glorious Hungarian hills this
week."

Colonel Youlter searched her face eagerly. Had she spoken the tongue of
flattery, or of the mere conventional? He saw she had not, and he began
to regard her with something more than the mere curiosity with which he
had anticipated meeting her.

In his callow days he had been romantic to a degree. Even now his heart
was younger than his years, for while he had never wed, because of a
love-tragedy thirty years before, he had preserved a rare, a very tender
chivalry towards women. He knew he would never love again, as he had
once loved, though, at times, he told himself that he might yet love in a
soberer fashion, and even wed.

"You are interested in the occult, Miss Montmarte?" he replied.

She smiled up into his face, as she said:

"'Interested,' Colonel Youlter? interested is no word for it, for I might
almost say that it is a passion with me, for very little else in life
really holds me long, compared with my love for it."

She glanced swiftly to right and left, and across the table to see if she
was being watched, or listened to. Everyone seemed absorbed with either
their plates or their companions.

Bending towards the man at her side, she said, "You know what an evening
is like at such times as this. We women will adjourn to the Drawing
Room, you men will presently join us, there will be a buzzing of voices,
talk--'cackle' one of America's representatives used to term it, and it
was a good name, only that the hen has done something to cackle about,
she has fulfilled the purpose for which she came into existence, and
women--the average Society women, at least--do not. Then there'll be
singing, of a sort, and--but you know, Colonel, all the usual rigmarole.
Now I want a long, long talk with you about the subject you have just
broached. We could not talk