what I may look, I mean."

"How do you know that you are commonplace?"

"Of course I know," said Agatha, her eyes wandering uneasily.

"Of course you do not know; you cannot see yourself as others see you.
For instance, you have never thought of yourself as a golden idol."

"But that is absurd. You are quite mistaken about me."

"Perhaps so. I know, however, that your face is not really made of gold
and that it has not the same charm for you that it has for others--for
me."

"I must go," said Agatha, suddenly in haste.

"When shall we meet again?"

"I don't know," she said, with a growing sense of alarm. "I really must
go."

"Believe me, your hurry is only imaginary. Do you fancy that you are
behaving in a manner of quite ubdued ardor that affected Agatha
strangely.

"But first tell me whether it is new to you or not."

"It is not an emotion at all. I did not say that it was."