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90 gesture he made. I hung over him and then—and then I nearly ran out of the house just as I was, in my night-gown. I think if I had been dressed I would have run out of the garden, into the street—run away altogether. I had never seen death. I may say I had never heard of it. I wanted to run from it."

She paused for a long, quiet breath. The harmonized sweetness and daring of her face was made pathetic by her downcast eyes.

"Fuir la mort," she repeated, meditatively, in her mysterious voice.

Mills' big head had a little movement, nothing more. Her glance glided for a moment towards me like a friendly recognition of my right to be there, before she began again.

"My life might have been described as looking at mankind from a fourth-floor window for years. When the end came it was like falling out of a balcony into the street. It was as sudden as that. Once I remember somebody was telling us in the Pavilion a tale about a girl who jumped down from a fourth-floor window.… For love, I believe," she interjected very quickly, "and came to no harm. Her guardian angel must have slipped his wings under her just in time. He must have. But as to me, all I know is that I didn't break anything—not even my heart. Don't be shocked, Mr. Mills. It's very likely that you don't understand."

"Very likely," Mills assented, unmoved. "But don't be too sure of that."

"Henry Allègre had the highest opinion of your intelligence," she said unexpectedly and with evident seriousness. "But all this is only to tell you that when he was gone I found myself down there unhurt, but dazed,