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 to where the hostess stood talking in the centre of a little attentive circle.

"We want to extend our thanks to you," she said, "for the pleasure and the privilege of hearing such good poetry. We really have a great deal to say on the subject, but we have to go."

Victoria tried to tone down the abruptness of their departure, but was obviously uneasy and preoccupied. The poetess seemed disappointed. The sudden natural outburst of Victoria's admiration had led her to hope for one of the rare sympathies she occasionally inspired, and the pang of loneliness that followed on its non-fulfilment lasted long after "The Enchanted Mesa" had completely faded from Victoria's mind. Of such strange stuff is our sensitiveness made.

As the friends left the hubbub of the tea, and sought the shelter of Mrs. Durham's studio, neither of them spoke. It was not until the cigarette had gone out several times and Victoria had walked the floor sturdily for some half mile that the flood-gates were opened. During the interval Mrs. Durham settled herself in one 126