In Lawrence Cardiff she felt vaguely the qualities that made him a marked man among his fellows, his intellectual breadth and keenness, his poise of brain, if one might call it so, and the _habilete_ with which, without permitting it to be part of his character, he sometimes allowed himself to charm even people of whom he disapproved.
These things were indeterminately present to her, and led her often to speculate as to how it was that Mr.
Cardiff's work expressed him so little.

It seemed to her that the one purpose of a personality like his was its expression--otherwise one might as well be of the ruck.
"You write with your intellectual faculties," she said to him once; "your soul is curiously dumb." But that was later.
The plane of Elfrida's relations with Janet altered gradually, one might say, from the inclined, with Elfrida on her knees at the lower end, to the horizontal.

It changed insensibly enough, through the freemasonry of confessed and unconfessed ideals, through growing attraction, through the feeling they shared, though only Janet voiced it, that there was nothing but the opportunities and the experience of four years between them, that in the end Elfrida would do better, stronger, more original work than she.

Elfrida was so much more original a person, Janet declared to herself, so--and when she hesitated for this word she usually said "enigmatical." The answer to the enigma, Janet was sure, would be written large in publishers' advertisements one day.

In the meantime, it was a vast satisfaction to Janet to be, as it were, behind the enigma, to consider it with the privileges of intimacy.