To her eyes, dimmed with much seeing, blurred by a garish kaleidoscope of fashionable life, there had come a look which was like the ghost of a look she had, how many decades ago.
Presently, as she saw Hylda's eyes withdraw from the stage, and look at her with a strange, soft moisture and a new light in them, she laid her fan confidently on her friend's knee, and said in her abrupt whimsical voice: "You like it, my darling; your eyes are as big as saucers.

You look as if you'd been seeing things, not things on that silly stage, but what Verdi felt when he wrote the piece, or something of more account than that." "Yes, I've been seeing things," Hylda answered with a smile which came from a new-born purpose, the dream of an idealist.

"I've been seeing things that Verdi did not see, and of more account, too....

Do you suppose the House is up yet ?" A strange look flashed into the Duchess's eyes, which had been watching her with as much pity as interest.

Hylda had not been near the House of Commons this session, though she had read the reports with her usual care.