He opened his eyes, protestingly, and beheld the realization of his dream. . "Nothing!" echoed the other, scornfully. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. Who says that I am not Meysey Hill? I was trying to scare you. She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time. I was not even sure whether it was loaded. There was a new softness in her eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost pathetic. ‘Obsessed, that’s what you are. III.
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