e, but the swift joy in the girl was
too strong for him. To such beauty the sternest will must bend. No
bird's song, no sudden light upon a cloud, no trembling flower in its
ecstacy, no tree in full burst of blossom could tell of so high a
beauty as this joy that flashed from the very depths of her soul into
her eyes, upon her lips, softening her throat, liquefying her every
movement, and into her voice bringing such music as no poet has ever
sung, no musician's brain conceived, music sent from regions deeper
than the human soul can know to go soaring far beyond the limits set to
human perception.

Rodd was dazed and dizzy with it, and longed every now and then to
touch her, to hold her, to make sure that in the swiftness of her joy
she would not fly away.... He talked gravely and solemnly, with an
intent concentration, about the persons in his life who compared so
sorrily with her. He was obviously composing them into a drama, which,
however, he dared not carry to any conclusion. That there could ever
be such another day as this was beyond his hopes, that he could ever
return to what he was beggared his endurance....

'A queer thing happened to me the other day,' he said. 'I live among
strange people, hangers-on of the theatre and the newspaper press.
There is a woman----'

Clara caught her breath and looked tigerish. He did not notice the
change and went on.

'There is a woman. She lives immediately below me. She has two
children and God knows how she lives. She used to wait for me on the
stairs in the evening to watch me go up. But I never spoke to her----'

Clara smiled happily.

'She used to do me little services. She would darn my socks, and
sometimes cook me some dainty and lay it outside my door. This went on
for months, I never spoke to her, because she has a terrible mother who
lives with her.... A week or two ago, she met me as I came upstairs in
the evening, and told me one of her children was ill, and asked me to
go for the doctor.... I did so, and she looked so exhausted that I
went in and helped her. The mother was no use at all; a fat, lazy
beast of a woman who drinks, swears, eats, and sleeps.... We wrestled
with death for the life of the child, but we were beaten.... It died.
She waits for me now, and tries to talk to me, but I will not do it.
She is frenzied in her attentions. She wants sympathy. She has it,
but wants more than that. A word from me, and I should never be ab