She allowed him to lead her across the room, and lay down as he wished.  To his kiss upon her forehead she made no response, but closed her eyes and was very still.  Harvey seated himself at his desk, and opened two or three unimportant letters which had arrived this morning.  To one of them he wrote an answer.  Turning presently to glance at Alma, he saw that she had not stirred, and when he leaned towards her, the sound of her breathing told him that she was asleep.

He meditated on Woman.

A quarter of an hour before dinner-time he left the room; on his return, when the meal was ready, he found Alma still sleeping, and so soundly that it seemed wrong to wake her.  As rays of sunset had begun to fall into the room, he drew the blind, then quietly went out, and had dinner by himself.

At ten o’clock Alma still slept.  Using a closely-shaded lamp, Harvey sat in the room with her and read —­ or seemed to read; for ever and again his eyes strayed to the still figure, and his thoughts wandered over all he knew of Alma’s life.  He wished he knew more, that he might better understand her.  Of her childhood, her early maidenhood, what conception had he?  Yet he and she were one —­ so said the creeds.  And Harvey laughed to himself, a laugh more of melancholy than of derision.

The clock ticked on; it was near to eleven.  Then Alma stirred, raised herself, and looked towards the light.

‘Harvey ——?  Have I been asleep so long?’

‘Nearly five hours.’

‘Oh!  That was last night ——­’

‘You mean, you had no sleep?’

‘Didn’t close my eyes.’

‘And you feel better now?’

‘Rather hungry.’

Rolfe laughed.  He had seated himself on the couch by her and held her in his arms.

’Why, then we’ll have some supper —­ a cold fowl and a bottle of Burgundy —­ a profligate supper, fit for such abandoned characters; and over it you shall tell me how the world looked to you when you were ten years old.’

CHAPTER 4

Alma returned to Basingstoke, and remained there until the new house was ready for her reception.  With the help of her country friends she engaged two domestics, cook and housemaid, who were despatched to Gunnersbury in advance; they had good ‘characters’, and might possibly co-operate with their new mistress in her resolve to create an admirable household.  Into this ambition Alma had thrown herself with no less fervour than that which carried her off to wild Wales five years ago; but her aim was now strictly ‘practical’, she would have nothing more to do with ‘ideals’.  She took lessons in domestic economy from the good people at Basingstoke.  Yes, she had found her way at last!  Alma saw it in the glow of a discovery, this calm, secure, and graceful middle-way.  She talked of it with an animation that surprised and pleased her little circle down in Hampshire; those ladies had never been able to illumine their everyday discharge of duty with such high imaginative glory.  In return for their humble lessons, Alma taught them to admire themselves, to see in their place and functions a nobility they had never suspected.