A mystery however she remained to me only for a minute after I had levelled my glass at her: I feel to this moment the startled thrill, the shock almost of joy, with which I translated her vague brightness into a resurrection of Flora.

I say a resurrection, because, to put it crudely, I had on that last occasion left our young woman for dead.

At present perfectly alive again, she was altered only, as it were, by this fact of life.

A little older, a little quieter, a little finer and a good deal fairer, she was simply transfigured by having recovered.

Sustained by the reflection that even her recovery wouldn't enable her to distinguish me in the crowd, I was free to look at her well.