This was the aged gentleman again, but she did not wince; he soon found out that they expect authors to say the oddest things, and this proved to be a great help to him.

“My dear young lady, I feel that I know you very well.”

“That,” she said, “is only because I resemble your friend outwardly.  The real me (she was a bit of philosopher also) you cannot know at all.”

He smiled sadly.  “Has it ever struck you,” he asked, “that you are very unlike other women?”

“Oh, how ever could you have found that out?” she exclaimed, amazed.

Almost before he knew how it came about, he was on terms of very pleasant sentiment with this girl, for they now shared between them a secret that he had confided to no other.  His face, which had been so much against him hitherto, was at last in his favour; it showed so plainly that when he looked at her more softly or held her hand longer than is customary, he was really thinking of that other of whom she was the image.  Or if it did not precisely show that, it suggested something or other of that nature which did just as well.  There was a sweet something between them which brought them together and also kept them apart; it allowed them to go a certain length, while it was also a reason why they could never, never exceed that distance; and this was an ideal state for Tommy, who could be most loyal and tender so long as it was understood that he meant nothing in particular.  She was the right kind of girl, too, and admired him the more (and perhaps went a step further) because he remained so true to Felicity’s memory.

You must not think him calculating and cold-blooded, for nothing could be less true to the fact.  When not engaged, indeed, on his new work, he might waste some time planning scenes with exquisite ladies, in which he sparkled or had a hidden sorrow (he cared not which); but these scenes seldom came to life.  He preferred very pretty girls to be rather stupid (oh, the artistic instinct of the man!), but instead of keeping them stupid, as he wanted to do, he found himself trying to improve their minds.  They screwed up their noses in the effort.  Meaning to thrill the celebrated beauty who had been specially invited to meet him, he devoted himself to a plain woman for whose plainness a sudden pity had mastered him (for, like all true worshippers of beauty in women, he always showed best in the presence of plain ones).  With the intention of being a gallant knight to Lady I-Won’t-Tell-the-Name, a whim of the moment made him so stiff to her that she ultimately asked the reason; and such a charmingly sad reason presented itself to him that she immediately invited him to her riverside party on Thursday week.  He had the conversations and incidents for that party ready long before the day arrived; he altered them and polished them as other young gentlemen in the same circumstances overhaul their boating costumes; but when he joined the party there was among them the children’s governess, and seeing her slighted, his blood boiled, and he was her attendant for the afternoon.