ore splendid than the rippling
hair that crowned her head and fell in its luxuriance of curls and waves
to her feet. As they again seated themselves side by side, Mrs
Jefferson remembered that she was not yet acquainted with the
nationality of the stranger. She hastened to repair the error of such
ignorance.

"You speak English wonderfully for a foreigner," she said; "it would
puzzle anyone to make out where you were raised--Russian, I surmise?"

"No," said the stranger, quietly, "though I have lived there a great
deal. It was my husband's country."

Mrs Jefferson looked radiant. She was married, then. That was
something to have learnt. "_Was_,"--she said quickly, "Is he not living
then?"

"No." The beautiful face grew a shade paler. "I would rather not talk
about it," she said. "His death was very tragic and terrible."

"I'm sorry," said the little American, with ready contrition; "don't
think I'm curious," she added, suddenly, "but one doesn't see a woman
like you every day. I surmise you'll make a sensation in the hotel."

"I have my own private rooms here," was the quiet response. "I shall
not mix with the other visitors."

"Oh," cried Mrs Jefferson, her face clouding, "I call that cruel.
There are really some very good people here--titles, if you like them--
money, if you care for that--one or two geniuses--a musician and a poet
who are working for a future generation, because they can't get
appreciated here--and the usual crowd of mediocrities. Oh, you really
must come to our evenings; they'd amuse you immensely. We're quite
dependent on ourselves for society. This is the dullest of dull holes,
still we manage to get a bit spry not and then. Now, you--why, if you'd
only show yourself to be looked at, you'd be doing the whole hotel a
good turn."

The stranger shook her head. "Society never amuses me," she said. "It
has nothing to offer that can rival the charms of books, art, and
solitude. I possess all three."

Mrs Jefferson opened her eyes wide. "The first and the last," she
said, "are comprehensible as travelling companions, but what about the
middle one?"

"In my train I have a blind musician, whose equal I have never met, and
a boy sculptor whose genius will one day astonish the world. For
myself, I paint and I write, and I have a store of books that will
outlast the longest limit of companionship. Can you tell me what better
things the world will give?"

Mrs Ray Jefferson m