Afterward she pinned on her big white hat.
At the door she paused for a second; took a last look at the quiet, white little room tranquil and silent in the lamplight; then she turned off the light and went out, softly, holding in her hands a key which fitted no door of her own.
One o'clock sounded heavily from Saint Hilda's as she left her house; the half hour was striking as she stooped in the dark hallway outside the studio and fitted the key she held--the key that was to unlock for her the mystery of the world.
He had not heard her.

She groped her way into the unlighted studio, touched with caressing finger-tips the vague familiar shapes that the starlight, falling through the glass above, revealed to her as she passed.
In the little inner room she paused.

There was a light through the passageway beyond, but she stood here a moment, looking around her while memories of the place deepened the colour in her cheeks.
Then she went forward, timidly, and stood at his closed door, listening.
A sudden fright seized her; one hand flew to her breast, her throat--covered her eyes for a moment--and fell limp by her side.
[Illustration: "She was longer over her hair ...

gathering it and bringing it under discipline."] "Louis!" she faltered.

She heard him spring to his feet and stand as though transfixed.
"Louis," she said, "it is I.Will you open your door to me ?" The sudden flood of electric light dazzled her; then she saw him standing there, one hand still resting on the door knob.
"I've come," she said, with a faint smile.
"Valerie! My God!" She stood, half smiling, half fearful, her dark eyes meeting his, two friendly little hands outstretched.