turbulent throb-throb across the temples and at my heart.

I was in heaven, and residence in heaven makes one bold.

“You really would like me to stay?” I almost whispered, in a tone that was equivalent to a declaration.

Her eyes met mine in silence for a few instants, and then she said, with a touch of melancholy:

“In all my life I’ve only had two friends — I mean since my mother’s death; and you are the third.”

“Is that all?”

“You don’t know what a life like mine is,” she went on, with feeling. “I’m only a prima donna, you know. People think that because I can make as much money in three hours as a milliner’s