I found myself face to face with several people whom she hastened to introduce. The only familiar name was that of Mr. Paul Barr, which I instantly recollected to have seen on the dedicatory page of Mr. Spence's volume of poems. The inscription read, "To my soul's brother, Paul Barr," and hence I gazed at the stranger with interest.
From Mr. Barr I got the impression of a handsome but dishevelled looking man of large stature, with a coal-black beard and dark piercing eyes, which he bent upon me ardently as he bowed his figure in what might well be styled a profound and lavish obeisance. He wore a velveteen coat and a large cherry neck-tie, the flowing ends of which added to his general air of disorder. The other names—to which I gave slight heed, for their owners were not especially significant in appearance—were Mr. Fleisch, a short, small German with eye-glasses, and Mrs. Marsh, a fat, genial matron of five-and-forty.
All this I took in at a glance, for Miss Kingsley conducted me immediately into her boudoir (as she called it), to lay aside my wraps.
"Has he not soulful eyes?" she asked.
"Who?" said I, though I knew to whom she must refer.
"Mr. Barr."
"A Bohemian, dear," she replied in a tone of satisfaction.
"Really?"
I had long wished to meet a member of that mysterious brotherhood, of which of course I had heard and read.