"And now your last question. And I answer: Yes, I do miss you--so
badly that I often take refuge in summoning you in spirit. The
other day I had occasion to see Austin; and we sat in the library
where all the curtains are in linen bags and all the furniture in
overalls, and where the rugs are rolled in tarred paper and the
pictures are muffled in cheese-cloth.

"And after our conference had ended and I was on my way to the hall
below, suddenly on my ear, faint but clear, I heard your voice,
sweet as the odour of blossoms in an empty room. No--it neither
deceived nor startled me; I have often heard it before, when you
were nowhere near. And, that I may answer your question more
completely, I answer it again: Yes, I miss you; so that I hear your
voice through every silence; all voids are gay with it; there are
no lonely places where my steps pass, because you are always near;
no stillness through which your voice does not sound; no
unhappiness, no sordid cares which the memory of you does not make
easier to endure.

"Have I answered? And now, good-night. Gerald has just come in; I
hear him passing through the hall to his own apartments. So I'll
drop in for a smoke with him before I start to search for you in
dreamland. Good-night, Eileen. PHILIP SELWYN."

When he had finished, sealed, and stamped his letter he leaned back in
his chair, smiling to himself, still under the spell which the thought
of her so often now cast over him. Life and the world were younger,
cleaner, fresher; the charming energy of her physical vigour and youth
and beauty tinted all things with the splendid hue of inspiration. But
most of all it was the exquisite fastidiousness of her thoughts that had
begun to inthral him--that crystal clear intelligence, so direct, so
generous--the splendid wholesome attitude toward life--and her dauntless
faith in the goodness of it.

Breathing deeply, he drew in the fragrance of her memory, and the
bitterness of things was dulled with every quiet respiration.

He smiled again, too; how utterly had his sister mistaken their frank
companionship! How stupidly superfluous was it to pretend to detect, in
their comradeship, the commonplaces of sentiment--as though such a girl
as Eileen Erroll were of the common self-conscious mould--as though in
their cordial understanding there was anything less simple than
commun