thing infinitely bright and lovable caught, tarnished, coarsened, coated over.
"Do you?" said the Angel in a low tone. "Are you… separated from… your world?"
"As you are?" whispered Mrs. Jehoram.
"This is so—cold," said the Angel. "So harsh!" He meant the whole world.
"I feel it too," said Mrs. Jehoram, referring to Siddermorton House.
"There are those who cannot live without sympathy," she said after a sympathetic pause. "And times when one feels alone in the world. Fighting a battle against it all. Laughing, flirting, hiding the pain of it.…"
"And hoping," said the Angel with a wonderful glance— "Yes."
Mrs. Jehoram (who was an epicure of flirtations) felt the Angel was more than redeeming the promise of his appearance. (Indisputably he worshipped her.) "Do you look for sympathy?" she said. "Or have you found it?"
"I think," said the Angel, very softly, leaning forward, "I think I have found it."
Interval of Chopin Op. 40. The very eldest Miss Papaver and Mrs. Pirbright whispering. Lady Hammergallow (glasses up) looking down the saloon with an unfriendly expression at the Angel. Mrs. Jehoram and the Angel exchanging deep and significant glances.
"Her name," said the Angel (Mrs. Jehoram made a movement) "is Delia. She is…"
"Delia!" said Mrs. Jehoram sharply, slowly realis-
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