Ann　seemed　thoughtful。　　〃What　is　he　doing　here　in　New　York？〃　she
  wondered。
  〃Looking　for　a　lady　named　Sylvia；〃　answered　Matthew。
  He　thought　the　time　was　come　to　break　it　to　her　that　he　was　a　great
  and　famous　man。　　Then　perhaps　she　would　be　sorry　she　had　said　what
  she　had　said　in　the　cab。　　Seeing　he　had　made　up　his　mind　that　his
  relationship　to　her　in　the　future　would　be　that　of　an　affectionate
  brother；　there　would　be　no　harm　in　also　letting　her　know　about
  Sylvia。　　That　also　might　be　good　for　her。
  They　walked　two　blocks　before　Ann　spoke。　　Matthew；　anticipating　a
  pleasurable　conversation；　felt　no　desire　to　hasten　matters。
  〃How　intimate　are　you　with　him？〃　she　demanded。　　〃I　don't　think　he
  would　have　said　that　to　a　mere　acquaintance。〃
  〃I'm　not　a　mere　acquaintance；〃　said　Matthew。　　〃I've　known　him　a　long
  time。〃
  〃You　never　told　me；〃　complained　Ann。
  〃Didn't　know　it　would　interest　you；〃　replied　Matthew。
  He　waited　for　further　questions；　but　they　did　not　come。　　At　Thirty…
  fourth　Street　he　saved　her　from　being　run　over　and　killed；　and　again
  at　Forty…second　Street。　　Just　inside　the　park　she　stopped　abruptly
  and　held　out　her　hand。
  〃Tell　him；〃　she　replied；　〃that　if　he　is　really　serious　about　finding
  Sylvia；　I　mayI　don't　say　I　canbut　I　may　be　able　to　help　him。〃
  He　did　not　take　her　hand；　but　stood　stock　still　in　the　middle　of　the
  path　and　stared　at　her。
  〃You！〃　he　said。　　〃You　know　her？〃
  She　was　prepared　for　his　surprise。　　She　was　also　preparednot　with
  a　lie；　that　implies　evil　intention。　　Her　only　object　was　to　have　a
  talk　with　the　gentleman　and　see　what　he　was　like　before　deciding　on
  her　future　proceedingslet　us　say；　with　a　plausible　story。
  〃We　crossed　on　the　same　boat；〃　she　said。　　〃We　found　there　was　a　good
  deal　in　common　between　us。　　Sheshe　told　me　things。〃　　When　you　came
  to　think　it　out　it　was　almost　the　truth。
  〃What　is　she　like？〃　demanded　Matthew。
  〃Oh；　justwell；　not　exactly〃　　It　was　an　awkward　question。　　There
  came　to　her　relief　the　reflection　that　there　was　really　no　need　for
  her　to　answer　it。
  〃What's　it　got　to　do　with　you？〃　she　said。
  〃I　am　Aston　Rowant；〃　said　Matthew。
  The　Central　Park；　together　with　the　universe　in　general；　fell　away
  and　disappeared。　　Somewhere　out　of　chaos　was　sounding　a　plaintive
  voice：　　〃What　is　she　like？　　Can't　you　tell　me？　　Is　she　young　or
  old？〃
  It　seemed　to　have　been　going　on　for　ages。　　She　made　one　supreme
  gigantic　effort；　causing　the　Central　Park　to　reappear；　dimly；
  faintly；　but　it　was　there　again。　　She　was　sitting　on　a　seat。
  MatthewAston　Rowant；　whatever　it　waswas　seated　beside　her。
  〃You've　seen　her？　　What　is　she　like？〃
  〃I　can't　tell　you。〃
  He　was　evidently　very　cross　with　her。　　It　seemed　so　unkind　of　him。
  〃Why　can't　you　tell　meor；　why　won't　you　tell　me？　　Do　you　mean
  she's　too　awful　for　words？〃
  〃No；　certainly　notas　a　matter　of　fact〃
  〃Well；　what？〃
  She　felt　she　must　get　away　or　there　would　be　hysterics　somewhere。
  She　sprang　up　and　began　to　walk　rapidly　towards　the　gate。　　He
  followed　her。
  〃I'll　write　you；〃　said　Ann。
  〃But　why？〃
  〃I　can't；〃　said　Ann。　　〃I've　got　a　rehearsal。〃
  A　car　was　passing。　　She　made　a　dash　for　it　and　clambered　on。　　Before
  he　could　make　up　his　mind　it　had　gathered　speed。
  Ann　let　herself　in　with　her　key。　　She　called　downstairs　to　the　small
  servant　that　she　wasn't　to　be　disturbed　for　anything。　　She　locked
  the　door。
  So　it　was　to　Matthew　that　for　six　years　she　had　been　pouring　out　her
  inmost　thoughts　and　feelings！　　It　was　to　Matthew　that　she　had　laid
  bare　her　tenderest；　most　sacred　dreams！　　It　was　at　Matthew's　feet
  that　for　six　years　she　had　been　sitting；　gazing　up　with　respectful
  admiration；　with　reverential　devotion！　　She　recalled　her　letters；
  almost　passage　for　passage；　till　she　had　to　hold　her　hands　to　her
  face　to　cool　it。　　Her　indignation；　one　might　almost　say　fury；　lasted
  till　tea…time。
  In　the　eveningit　was　in　the　evening　time　that　she　had　always
  written　to　hima　more　reasonable　frame　of　mind　asserted　itself。
  After　all；　it　was　hardly　his　fault。　　He　couldn't　have　known　who　she
  was。　　He　didn't　know　now。　　She　had　wanted　to　write。　　Without　doubt
  he　had　helped　her；　comforted　her　loneliness；　had　given　her　a
  charming　friendship；　a　delightful　comradeship。　　Much　of　his　work　had
  been　written　for　her；　to　her。　　It　was　fine　work。　　She　had　been　proud
  of　her　share　in　it。　　Even　allowing　there　were　faultsirritability；
  shortness　of　temper；　a　tendency　to　bossiness！underneath　it　all　was
  a　man。　　The　gallant　struggle；　the　difficulties　overcome；　the　long
  suffering；　the　high　courageall　that　she；　reading　between　the
  lines；　had　divined　of　his　life's　battle！　　Yes；　it　was　a　man　she　had
  worshipped。　　A　woman　need　not　be　ashamed　of　that。　　As　Matthew　he　had
  seemed　to　her　conceited；　priggish。　　As　Aston　Rowant　she　wondered　at
  his　modesty；　his　patience。
  And　all　these　years　he　had　been　dreaming　of　her；　had　followed　her　to
  New　York；　had
  There　came　a　sudden　mood　so　ludicrous；　so　absurdly　unreasonable　that
  Ann　herself　stopped　to　laugh　at　it。　　Yet　it　was　real；　and　it　hurt。
  He　had　come　to　New　York　thinking　of　Sylvia；　yearning　for　Sylvia。　　He
  had　come　to　New　York　with　one　desire：　　to　find　Sylvia。　　And　the
  first　pretty　woman　that　had　come　across　his　path　had　sent　Sylvia
  clean　out　of　his　head。　　There　could　be　no　question　of　that。　　When
  Ann　Kavanagh　stretched　out　her　hand　to　him　in　that　very　room　a
  fortnight　ago　he　had　stood　before　her　dazzled；　captured。　　From　that
  moment　Sylvia　had　been　tossed　aside　and　forgotten。　　Ann　Kavanagh
  could　have　done　what　she　liked　with　him。　　She　had　quarrelled　with
  him　that　evening　of　the　concert。　　She　had　meant　to　quarrel　with　him。
  And　then　for　the　first　time　he　had　remembered　Sylvia。　　That　was　her
  rewardSylvia's：　　it　was　Sylvia　she　was　thinking　offor　six　years'
  devoted　friendship；　for　the　help；　the　inspiration　she　had　given　him。
  As　Sylvia；　she　suffered　from　a　very　genuine　and　explainable　wave　of
  indignant　jealousy。　　As　Ann；　she　admitted　he　ought　not　to　have　done
  it；　but　felt　there　was　excuse　for　him。　　Between　the　two　she　feared
  her　mind　would　eventually　give　way。　　On　the　morning　of　the　second
  day　she　sent　Matthew　a　note　asking　him　to　call　in　the　afternoon。
  Sylvia　might　be　there；　or　she　might　not。　　She　would　mention　it　to
  her。
  She　dressed　herself　in　a　quiet；　dark…coloured　frock。　　It　seemed
  uncommittal　and　suitable　to　the　occasion。　　It　also　happened　to　be
  the　colour　that　best　suited　her。　　She　would　not　have　the　lamps
  lighted。
  Matthew　arrived　in　a　dark　serge　suit　and　a　blue　necktie；　so　that　the
  general　effect　was　quiet。　　Ann　greeted　him　with　kindliness　and　put
  him　with　his　face　to　what　little　light　there　was。　　She　chose　for
  herself　the　window…seat。　　Sylvia　had　not　arrived。　　She　might　be　a
  little　latethat　is；　if　she　came　at　all。
  They　talked　about　the　weather　for　a　while。　　Matthew　was　of　opinion
  they　were　going　to　have　some　rain。　　Ann；　who　was　in　one　of　her
  contradictory　moods；　thought　there　was　frost　in　the　air。
  〃What　did　you　say　to　her？〃　he　asked。
  〃Sylvia？　　Oh；　what　you　told　me；〃　replied　Ann。　　〃That　you　had　come　to
  New　York　toto　look　for　her。〃
  〃What　did　she　say？〃　he　asked。
  〃Said　you'd　taken　your　time　about　it；〃　retorted　Ann。
  Matthew　looked　up　with　an　injured　expression。
  〃It　was　her　own　idea　that　we　should　never　meet；〃　he　explained。
  〃Um！〃　Ann　grunted。
  〃What　do　you　think　yourself　she　will　be　like？〃　she　continued。　　〃Have
  you　formed　any　notion？〃
  〃It　is　curious；〃　he　replied。　　〃I　have　never　been　able　to　conjure　up
  any　picture　of　her　until　just　now。〃
  〃Why　'just　now'？〃　demanded　Ann。
  〃I　had　an　idea　I　should　find　her　here　when　I　opened　the　door；〃　he
  answered。　　〃You　were　standing　in　the　shadow。　　It　seemed　to　be　just
  what　I　had　expected。〃
  〃You　would　have　been　satisfied？〃　she　asked。
  〃Yes；〃　he　said。
  There　was　silence　for　a　moment。
  〃Uncle　Ab　made　a　mistake；〃　he　continued。　　〃He　ought　to　have　sent　me
  away。　　Let　me　come　home　now　and　then。〃
  〃You　mean；〃　said　Ann；　〃that　if　you　had　seen　less　of　me　you　might
  have　liked　me　better？〃
  〃Quite　right；〃　he　admitted。　　〃We　never　see　the　things　that　are
  always　there。〃
  〃A　thin；　gawky　girl　with　a　bad　complexion；〃　she　suggested。　　〃Would
  it　have　been　of　any　use？〃
  〃You　must　always　have　been　wonderful　with　those　eyes；〃　he　answered。
  〃And　your　hands　were　beautiful　even　then。〃
  〃I　used　to　cry　sometimes　when　I　looked　at　myself　in　the　glass　as　a
  child；〃　she　confessed。　　〃My　hands　were　the　only　thing　that　consoled
  me。〃
  〃I　kissed　them　once；〃　he　told　her。　　〃You　were　asleep；　curled　up　in
  Uncle　Ab's　chair。〃
  〃I　wasn't　asleep；〃　said　Ann。
  She　was　seated　with　one　foot　tucked　underneath　her。　　She　didn't　look
  a　bit　grown　up。
  〃You　always　thought　me　a　fool；〃　he　said。
  〃It　used　to　make　me　so　angry　with　you；〃　said　Ann；　〃that　you　seemed
  to　have　no　go；　no　ambition　in　you。　　I　wanted　you　to　wake　updo
  something。　　If　I　had　known　you　were　a　budding　genius〃
  〃I　did　hint　it　to　you；〃　said　he。
  〃Oh；　of　course　it　was　all　my　fault；〃　said　Ann。
  He　rose。　　〃You　think　she　means　to　come？〃　he　asked。　　Ann　also　had
  risen。
  〃Is　she　so　very　wonderful？〃　she　asked。
  〃I　may　be　exaggerating　to　myself；〃　he　answered。　　〃But　I　am　not　sure
  that　I　could　go　on　with　my　work