human
My dear Mrs. Besant, I have so long wished to see you, and I was standing with my hand in her firm grip, and looking for the first time in this life straight into the eyes of
gpt
H.P.B. I was conscious of a sudden leaping forth of my heart--was it recognition?--and then, I am ashamed to say, a fierce rebellion, a fierce withdrawal, as of some wild animal when it feels a mastering hand. I sat down, after some introductions that conveyed no ideas to me, and listened. She talked of travels, of various countries, easy brilliant talk, her eyes veiled, her exquisitely moulded fingers rolling cigarettes incessantly. Nothing special to record, no word of Occultism, nothing mysterious, a woman of the world chatting with her evening visitors. We rose to go, and for a moment the veil lifted, and two brilliant, piercing eyes met mine, and with a yearning throb in the voice:
human
Oh, my dear Mrs. Besant, if you would only come among us! I felt a well-nigh uncontrollable desire to bend down and kiss her, under the compulsion of that yearning voice, those compelling eyes, but with a flash of the old unbending pride and an inward jeer at my own folly, I said a commonplace polite good-bye, and turned away with some inanely courteous and evasive remark.
gpt
Child, she said to me long afterwards,