They had just passed through Lansdowne Passage and were in the quiet end of Curzon Street.
"But you must not talk to me like that!" she expostulated.
"Why not ?" he demanded.

"We have met under strange and untoward circumstances, but are you so very different from other women ?" For a single moment she seemed infinitely more human, startled, a little nervous, exquisitely sympathetic to an amazing and unexpected impression.

She seemed to look with glad but terrified eyes towards the vision of possible things--and then to realise that it was but a trick of the fancy and to come shivering back to the world of actualities.
"I am very different," she said quietly.

"I have lived my life.

What I lack in years has been made up to me in horror.