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It
was
then
—
after
an
interval
of
repose
with
compassionate
but
impecunious
American
friends
in
Paris
—
that
Miss
Viner
had
been
drawn
into
the
turbid
current
of
Mrs
.
Murrett
’
s
career
.
The
impecunious
compatriots
had
found
Mrs
.
Murrett
for
her
,
and
it
was
partly
on
their
account
(
because
they
were
such
dears
,
and
so
unconscious
,
poor
confiding
things
,
of
what
they
were
letting
her
in
for
)
that
Sophy
had
stuck
it
out
so
long
in
the
dreadful
house
in
Chelsea
.
The
Farlows
,
she
explained
to
Darrow
,
were
the
best
friends
she
had
ever
had
(
and
the
only
ones
who
had
ever
“
been
decent
”
about
Laura
,
whom
they
had
seen
once
,
and
intensely
admired
)
;
but
even
after
twenty
years
of
Paris
they
were
the
most
incorrigibly
inexperienced
angels
,
and
quite
persuaded
that
Mrs
.
Murrett
was
a
woman
of
great
intellectual
eminence
,
and
the
house
at
Chelsea
“
the
last
of
the
salons
”
—
Darrow
knew
what
she
meant
?
And
she
hadn
’
t
liked
to
undeceive
them
,
knowing
that
to
do
so
would
be
virtually
to
throw
herself
back
on
their
hands
,
and
feeling
,
moreover
,
after
her
previous
experiences
,
the
urgent
need
of
gaining
,
at
any
cost
,
a
name
for
stability
;
besides
which
—
she
threw
it
off
with
a
slight
laugh
—
no
other
chance
,
in
all
these
years
,
had
happened
to
come
to
her
.
She
had
brushed
in
this
outline
of
her
career
with
light
rapid
strokes
,
and
in
a
tone
of
fatalism
oddly
untinged
by
bitterness
.
Darrow
perceived
that
she
classified
people
according
to
their
greater
or
less
“
luck
”
in
life
,
but
she
appeared
to
harbour
no
resentment
against
the
undefined
power
which
dispensed
the
gift
in
such
unequal
measure
.
Things
came
one
’
s
way
or
they
didn
’
t
;
and
meanwhile
one
could
only
look
on
,
and
make
the
most
of
small
compensations
,
such
as
watching
“
the
show
”
at
Mrs
.
Murrett
’
s
,
and
talking
over
the
Lady
Ulricas
and
other
footlight
figures
.
And
at
any
moment
,
of
course
,
a
turn
of
the
kaleidoscope
might
suddenly
toss
a
bright
spangle
into
the
grey
pattern
of
one
’
s
days
.
This
light
-
hearted
philosophy
was
not
without
charm
to
a
young
man
accustomed
to
more
traditional
views
.
George
Darrow
had
had
a
fairly
varied
experience
of
feminine
types
,
but
the
women
he
had
frequented
had
either
been
pronouncedly
“
ladies
”
or
they
had
not
.
Grateful
to
both
for
ministering
to
the
more
complex
masculine
nature
,
and
disposed
to
assume
that
they
had
been
evolved
,
if
not
designed
,
to
that
end
,
he
had
instinctively
kept
the
two
groups
apart
in
his
mind
,
avoiding
that
intermediate
society
which
attempts
to
conciliate
both
theories
of
life
.
“
Bohemianism
”
seemed
to
him
a
cheaper
convention
than
the
other
two
,
and
he
liked
,
above
all
,
people
who
went
as
far
as
they
could
in
their
own
line
—
liked
his
“
ladies
”
and
their
rivals
to
be
equally
unashamed
of
showing
for
exactly
what
they
were
.
He
had
not
indeed
—
the
fact
of
Lady
Ulrica
was
there
to
remind
him
—
been
without
his
experience
of
a
third
type
;
but
that
experience
had
left
him
with
a
contemptuous
distaste
for
the
woman
who
uses
the
privileges
of
one
class
to
shelter
the
customs
of
another
.
As
to
young
girls
,
he
had
never
thought
much
about
them
since
his
early
love
for
the
girl
who
had
become
Mrs
.
Leath
.
That
episode
seemed
,
as
he
looked
back
on
it
,
to
bear
no
more
relation
to
reality
than
a
pale
decorative
design
to
the
confused
richness
of
a
summer
landscape
.
He
no
longer
understood
the
violent
impulses
and
dreamy
pauses
of
his
own
young
heart
,
or
the
inscrutable
abandonments
and
reluctances
of
hers
.
He
had
known
a
moment
of
anguish
at
losing
her
—
the
mad
plunge
of
youthful
instincts
against
the
barrier
of
fate
;
but
the
first
wave
of
stronger
sensation
had
swept
away
all
but
the
outline
of
their
story
,
and
the
memory
of
Anna
Summers
had
made
the
image
of
the
young
girl
sacred
,
but
the
class
uninteresting
.
Such
generalisations
belonged
,
however
,
to
an
earlier
stage
of
his
experience
.
The
more
he
saw
of
life
the
more
incalculable
he
found
it
;
and
he
had
learned
to
yield
to
his
impressions
without
feeling
the
youthful
need
of
relating
them
to
others
.
It
was
the
girl
in
the
opposite
seat
who
had
roused
in
him
the
dormant
habit
of
comparison
.
She
was
distinguished
from
the
daughters
of
wealth
by
her
avowed
acquaintance
with
the
real
business
of
living
,
a
familiarity
as
different
as
possible
from
their
theoretical
proficiency
;
yet
it
seemed
to
Darrow
that
her
experience
had
made
her
free
without
hardness
and
self
-
assured
without
assertiveness
.
The
rush
into
Amiens
,
and
the
flash
of
the
station
lights
into
their
compartment
,
broke
Miss
Viner
’
s
sleep
,
and
without
changing
her
position
she
lifted
her
lids
and
looked
at
Darrow
.
There
was
neither
surprise
nor
bewilderment
in
the
look
.
She
seemed
instantly
conscious
,
not
so
much
of
where
she
was
,
as
of
the
fact
that
she
was
with
him
;
and
that
fact
seemed
enough
to
reassure
her
.
She
did
not
even
turn
her
head
to
look
out
;
her
eyes
continued
to
rest
on
him
with
a
vague
smile
which
appeared
to
light
her
face
from
within
,
while
her
lips
kept
their
sleepy
droop
.
