He introduced her father to a fashionable musician, whose pavanes and sonatas were composed with that lack of matter and excess of erudition which delight the amateur and irritate the artist, and he walked down the rooms looking for seats where they could talk undisturbed for a few minutes.  He was nervous lest Georgina should find him sitting with this girl in an intimate corner, but he did not expect her for another half-hour, and could not resist the temptation.  He was curious to know how far Evelyn acquiesced in the obscure lot which her father imposed upon her, to play the viola da gamba, and sing old music, instead of singing for her own fame upon the stage.  But had she a great voice?  If she had, he would like to help her.  The discovery of a new prima donna would be a fine feather in his cap.  Above all, he was also curious to find out if she were the innocent maiden she appeared to be, or if she had had flirtations with the clerks in the neighbourhood, and he found his opportunity to speak to her on this subject in the first line of a French song she was going to sing:—­

“Que vous me coutez cher, mon coeur, pour vos plaisirs.”

His appreciation of her changed every moment.  Truly her eyes lit up with a beautiful light, and her remarks about the length of our payment for our pleasures revealed an apprehension which he had not credited her with.  But he was alarmed at the quickness with which they had strayed to the very verge of things:  From the other room they would seem very intimate, sitting on a sofa together, and he was expecting Georgina every minute.  If she were to see them, it would lead to further discussion, and supply her with an excuse.  But his curiosity was kindled, and while he considered how he could lead Evelyn into confidences, he saw her arm trembling through the gauze sleeve, for it seemed to her that all that was happening now had happened before.  The walls covered with red pleated silk, the bracket-clocks, the brocade-covered chairs:  where had she seen them?  And Owen’s grey eyes fixed upon her:  where had she seen them?  In a dream perhaps.  She asked him if he had ever experienced the sensation of having already lived through a scene that was happening at the very moment.  He did not seem to hear; he seemed expecting someone; and then the vision returned to her again, and she could not but think that she had known Sir Owen long ago, but how and where she could not tell.  At that moment she noticed his absent-mindedness, and it was suddenly flashed upon her that he was in love with some woman and was waiting for her, and almost at the same moment she saw a tall, red-haired woman cross the further room.  The woman paused in the doorway, as if looking for someone.  She nodded to Owen and engaged in conversation with a group of men standing by the fireplace.  Something told Evelyn that that smooth, cream-coloured neck was the woman Owen was in love with, and the sudden formality of his manner convinced her that she was right, that that was the woman he was in love with.  He said that he must go and see after his other guests, and, as she expected, he went straight to the woman with the red hair.  But she did not leave her friends.  After shaking hands with Owen, she continued talking to them, and he was left out of the conversation.