“Yes, I read a great deal.  You see, Moravia and I were at a convent together, and there, beyond teaching us to spell and to write and do a few sums and learn a garbled version of French history, a little music, and a great deal of embroidery, they left us totally ignorant—­one must try to supply the deficiencies oneself.  It is appalling to remain ignorant once one realizes that one is.”

“Knowledge on any subject is interesting—­did you begin generally—­or did you specialize?”

“I always wanted to be just—­and to understand things.  The whole of life and existence seemed too difficult—­I think I began trying to find some key to that and this opened the door to general information, and so eventually, perhaps, one specializes.”

He was wise enough not to press the question into what her specializing ran.  He adored subtleties, and he noted with delight that she was not so completely indifferent as usual.  If he could keep her attention for a little while, they might have a really interesting investigation of each other’s thoughts.

“I like thinking of things, too—­and trying to discover their meanings and what caused them.  We are all, of course, the victims of heredity.”

“That may be,” she agreed, “but the will can control any heredity.  It can only manifest itself when we let ourselves drift.  The tragedy of it is that we have drifted too far sometimes before we learn that we could have directed the course if we had willed.  Ignorance is seemingly the most cruel foe we have to encounter, because we are so defenseless, not knowing he is there.”

She sighed unconsciously and looked out over the beautiful tree-tops, down to where the Kaiser Park appeared like a little doll’s chalet set among streams and pastures green.

Lord Fordyce was much moved.  She was prettier and sweeter than he had even fancied she would be could he ever contrive to find her all alone.  He watched her covertly; the exquisite peachy skin with its pure color, and her soft brown hair dressed with a simplicity which he thought perfection, all appealed to him, and those strange violet eyes rather round and heavily lashed with brown-shaded lashes, darker at the tips.  The type was not intense or of a studious mould.  Circumstance must indeed have formed an exotic character to have grafted such deep meaning in their innocent depths.  She went on presently, not remarking his silence.

“It is heredity which makes my country women so nervous and unstable as a rule.  You don’t like them, as I know,” and she smiled, “and I think, from your point of view, you are right.  You see, we are nearly all mushroom growths, sprung up in a night—­and we have not had time for poise, or the acceptance with calmness of our good fortune.  We are as yet unbalanced by it, and don’t know what we want.”

“You are very charming,” and he looked truthful, and at that moment felt so.

“Yes, I know—­we can be more charming than any other women because we have learnt from all the other nations and play which ever part we wish to select.”