d no compromising tenderness of manner for man or woman;
she ruled, yet was unapproachable through any avenues of sentiment. She
had a quiet aplomb, which would be called 'sang-froid' in a man.

"Did you ever see a Spanish-Mexican woman dance?" she asked in one of
the pauses of the music.

"Never: never any good dancing, save what one gets at a London theatre."

"That is graceful," she said, "but not dancing. You have heard of music
stirring the blood; of savage races--and others--working themselves up
to ecstatic fury? Maybe you have seen the Dervishes, or the Fijians, or
the Australian aboriginals? No? Well, I have, and I have seen--which
is so much more--those Spanish-Mexican women dance. Did you ever see
anything so thrilling, so splendid, that you felt you must possess
it?"--She asked me that with her hand upon my arm!--"Well, that is it. I
have felt that way towards a horse which has won a great race, and to
a woman who has carried me with her through the fantastic drama of her
dance, until she stood at the climax, head thrown back, face glowing--a
statue. It is grand to be eloquent like that, not in words, but in
person."

In this was the key to her own nature. Body and mind she was free from
ordinary morbidness, unless her dislike of all suffering was morbid.
With her this was a dislike of any shock to the senses. She was selfish
at all points.

These conclusions were pursued at the expense of speech on my part.
At first she did not appear to regard my silence. She seemed to have
thoughts of her own; but she shook them off with a little firm motion of
the shoulders, and, with the assumption of a demureness of manner and an
airy petulance, said: "Well, amuse me."

"Amuse you?" was my reply. "Delighted to do so if I can. How?"

"Talk to me," was the quick response.

"Would that accomplish the purpose?" This in a tone of mock protest.

"Please don't be foolish, Dr. Marmion. I dislike having to explain. Tell
me things."

"About what?"

"Oh, about yourself--about people you have met, and all that; for I
suppose you have seen a good deal and lived a good deal."

"About hospital cases?" I said a little maliciously.

"No, please, no! I abhor everything that is sick and poor and
miserable."

"Well," said I, at idle venture, "if not a hospital, what about a gaol?"

I felt the hand on my arm twitch slightly, and then her reply came.

"I said I hated everything that was wretched and wicked. You are either