I can't bear it. Sir John stood upon the threshold. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. All the turnkeys were assembled. She was standing before a window, against the background of the rain-burdened April sky. For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. But about his unknown rival he was acutely curious. She felt that she was not alone. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding.
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