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they told her less than nothing. Justice of the Peace, Gentleman-in-Waiting, political secret.ary to some statesman of whom she had never even heard,— these fragmentary, infrequent records of his life brought no vivid picture to console her mind, evoked no living image to warm her heart; instead, she could only visualize the Guy she had known so long ago at Fontainebleau, the gay and ardent lover of that joyous springtime, and then she seemed to see him, still in all the glamour of his golden youth, dressed in some splendid unfamiliar uniform, moving a little stiffly across a stage crowded with the older graver figures of those English political and aristocratie personalities of whom she was so sadly ignorant.

Sometimes she dreamed of him thus, and then always when she woke her body was hungry for love, her cheeks wet with tears, and then she would lie motionless, surrendered, her lips still warm with sleep, pretending in a sort of desperation that he was near to kiss them, to comfort her and bring peace to the furious desolation raging in her heart. And then, thinking of the savage letter that she had received at Brandenstein on that gray day of snow and wind, she would assume once more the armor of cynicism that was her one protection against the ills of life, and realize with a profound feeling of detachment, that the pleasures of that smiling springtime were for ever finished and done with.

"Really," she said to herself at such times, "it does me no good to be idle. I should be dancing again."

And then Paul came from Louvain to stay with her for a fortnight. She was, as usual, anxious about this visit. They had not met for six months, and she was determined to try to make friends with him. He had asked her for money, and she had given him money. He was supposed to be studying law at Louvain University, and the reports that she had received of his progress were

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