mean? He told her to read philosophy. He
said she had the eyes of a mystic. She had spent several minutes looking
in the mirror trying to see the strange mysticism he saw in her eyes,
and remembering the prophesies of Zero.

They talked a long time after lunch in the deep window seat, where the
music was audible but not disturbing, and she had not asked him to call.
She was always asking people to call, and they always called, and it was
always the same, nothing ever came of it. Probably some instinct told
her she would see him again, or she could not have resisted. Finally he
said, "We have known each other in a previous existence. This is an old
friendship. I shall come and see you to-morrow."

"Not to-morrow--Thursday," said Vera, thinking she would not have time
to get a new dress. So he was coming to-morrow. Perhaps he would give
her some new philosophy of life. He would make the riddle of existence
clear. He had bright and beautiful eyes, but--and here came in Vera's
weakness--she could not make up her mind even to fall in love without
some comment of Felicity's.

Supposing Felicity said it was charming and just the right thing for
her, how delightful that would be! On the other hand, she might make one
of those terrible enlightening little remarks that smashed up all
illusions and practically spoilt the fun. How right she had been about
Bobby! "_Not worth worrying about._" How right about many other people!
Then Felicity now settled nothing (with regard to people) without
consulting Bertie. Instead of taking a person just as he appeared as
Vera did, "Charming man, most cultured--I'm sure you'll like him," as
the hostess, Mrs. Dorfenstein, had said, Bertie would know everything
about him--who his father and mother were, why he happened to be at the
German lunch, his profession, his favourite hobbies, what was his usual
method, and a hundred other things likely to prevent any sort of
surprises. Really, Felicity and Bertie together were a rather formidable
couple of psychologists. Felicity often amused herself by experimenting
on the people that Bertie had discovered. What Vera feared more than
anything else was that Mr. Newman Ferguson would be pronounced a very
simple case. When she came home from her drive she saw a letter--a new
handwriting, which she instinctively felt certain was from Mr. Ferguson.
Therefore, although she was alone, she put it in her muff, went and
locked herself into her room, and began to