“What else am I?” she murmured.
But, alas! I had not time to answer, for the brougham stopped at the gates of the Zoological Gardens. We both awakened from our foolishness. My hand was on the door-handle when she checked me.
“What's the good of a mind if you can't change it? I don't feel in a mood for wild beasts to-day, and I know you don't care to see me fooling about with them. I would much rather sit quiet and talk to you.”
With a woman who wants to sacrifice herself there is no disputing. Besides, I had no desire to dispute. I acquiesced. We agreed to continue our drive.
“We'll go round by Hampstead Heath,” she said to the chauffeur. As soon as we were in motion again, she drew ever so little nearer and said, in her lowest, richest notes, and with a coquetry that was bewildering on account of its frankness:
“What were we talking of before we pulled up?”
“I don't know what we were talking of,” I said, “but we seem to have trodden on the fringe of a fairy-tale.”
“Can't we tread on it again?” She laughed happily.
“You have only to cast the spell of your witchery over me again.”
She drew yet a little nearer and whispered: “I'm trying to do it as hard as I can.”