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Angelus comes back for another visit.

Half the night she and the maids were up with me. I was screaming and crying, they slapping and throwing water at me to try to bring me to my senses.

All the next day, I lay abed, unable to receive Valentine who came on a particular visit.

He left me his own copy of The Princess, so elegantly bound in gold-tooled leather, and a note to say it must be mine for he could see how the poetry moved me. Only with the greatest of efforts did I avoid being cast into hysteria again at this.

Oh no, of course I realise it does not mean anything. Besides, I dislike him so much. He looks at me so and hangs over me when I arrange the music on my pianoforte in a way that makes me ... uneasy. I feel as if little pricks of arrows are darting into me, as if his gaze is a shaft that penetrates deep into my soul. I am sure that is very unpleasant for a proper young lady, such as Mama has raised me to be. It is only that I like to hear his voice -- anyone would delight in such tones, it is a voice in which to fold oneself and slip into and be lost in.
When I heard Charles speaking I went softly back up the corridor and made a noise as if I had just come down the stair. He opened the door fully then. I felt languorous still; tired out with the hysteria. Charles smiled so kindly at me.

"Dear Maud, I am sorry to see you looking pale and your eyes so heavy," he said gently. "I believe I may have found a cure to your illness and Mama has consented to take you to try it."

The tears gushed to my eyes. If only! If there could be some way to cut these traitorous feelings from my body, so that I might just be the perfectly behaved young lady Mama tries so hard to mould me into. I would do anything, like the Amazon warrior maidens who cut off a ... b-b-breast that they might shoot better with the bow. I would sacrifice anything to be a lady and make my family proud.

Thus it came about that Mama took me to Dr. Jones's rooms in Harley Street.

We sat stiffly together on plush dining chairs in a charming waiting room with some other women -- many of them young like myself and evidently accompanied by their Mama or governess. Magazines and a wonderful bouquet of lilies and roses had been arranged on a mahogany table in the centre of the room. Mama had been previously to discuss my condition with the good doctor and he assured her his therapy would be beneficial to me. I could hardly bear to believe it.

A woman came through the heavy padded door into an inner room. She supported another of the young women -- a very pretty charming brunette in a most fashionable gown. The young brunette looked a little dishevelled but as she smiled round on us all in a beatific manner, we were easily able to overlook this. A smartly dressed governess came to offer an arm and say in sympathetic tones: "You look so much better again, Gwendolyn. Let me help you down to the carriage now."

"Miss Jermyn?" the attendant woman enquired, looking round. She was dressed neatly in a blue woollen gown with a crisp white ruffled apron over it. I felt Mama become tense for the woman was young and extremely beautiful, with flaming bright auburn hair like many of the women in pre-Raphaelite art.

She smiled so kindly at me that I could not help smiling in reply. I began to tremble at thoughts of what Mama would say of her later, then I saw the woman had a simple gold band on her wedding finger, which might excuse her tidily dressed but inappropriately bright flaming hair.

Mama had been instructed that I was not to be put in my corset and I could breathe freely in my loosely cut lavender walking dress with the purple soutache braid. My feelings of anxiety wore off.

"This way, Miss Jermyn," the woman said in a gentle sweet voice with a slight thickening of accent.

I faltered when Mama did not come too. Encountering only a basilisk glare when I glanced nervously back at her, I hurried through the padded door which shut behind me with a soft thick sound.

Inside was a good sized room, well-lit by long windows ov

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