e made a leisurely toilet she was thinking, smiling as she thought,

es fixed on the cornice, her meagre white satin form swayed by emotions strangely out of keeping with the appearance of the singer. Miss Bulmer's shouts of despair and yearning stirred, as usual, all the enthusiasm of which her audience was capable; and Felicia, when she sat down to the piano, was accustomed to the subsequent torpor, to the undercurrent of talk while she played, and to having Miss Bulmer, flushed and generous in her own triumph, lean over her and watch her fin

enthusiasm went, an uncomprehended thrill round the ro

must she, Mrs. Merrick? Why didn't you prepare us for thi

ning its tint, hastened to add her urgency to Maurice's. "Is she not wonderful? W

eyes dwelt on h

ulmer felt that benignity was misapplied, and had look

a delightful, almost a

ew, the near trees framing a long strip of sky, the early sunlight sparkling on jewel-like bands of flowers-was sweet

ng his good-morning, and Felicia, leaning out to smile at him, white among the creepe

you to be up early. Let us have a walk b

deep lanes that led to the woods and that smelt of the damp, sweet earth. As they went he talked, mainly about himself, with an altogether un-English ease and equally without awkwardness or vanity. He talked of his work, of his friends, of his travels and point of view-as far as he could be said to have one. He seemed to be turning under her eyes t

he woods. Despair and despondency were black and alien things to speak of here, where the very shadows wer

I am sometimes horribly discontented-and when I

anyth

I mean being sure that everythi

th while as lo

arrow path, and the white flounces of her dress brushed wet grasses on either side.

me of blues except Geoffrey. I give him a glimpse now and then. That is really the way our friendship began. I was in a frightful state of mind one term at Eton, sinking in depths of scepticism and hor

things don't last?" Felicia asked, looki

get. I want to feel everything-to the uttermost. I never get a chance to exerci

rhead. Maurice vaulted over the stile and held out his hand to her. Her eyes, looking down at him, showed

dread

rice; "and I want the whole hu

is the hum

er's daughter! Your father, I

ughter asks t

eadow, white with the lacey

w, after this, I shall alway

ai

nd walking among white flowers in the sunlight. I have gues

ing of a question, f

to think it

ntagonism. There was no criticism in it, no surprise or displeasure, yet her intuition told her that something in it commented unfavourably upon her companionship with Maurice. And with the intuition came a delightful throb of power. He was her friend, and she would keep him so. Already th

as silent. With his head thrown back, his hands clasped behind him, he smiled as th

rl," Geoffrey observed,

together with a gesture

on't be so

la called her yesterda

r atmosphere; lace tea-gowns and languor. This child is a wild rose open to the sky, dew

itude of wild-rose raptures, r

fidential for his momentary reticence, "I assure you that if I

, pray do nothing so nonsensic

s, my dear Geoffrey. Why me

fall in love with you. Don't flirt with this g

hrugged his sho

boudoir-not in the breezes of a heath. And then there is nothing

one your best to win it. What has

e and simple,

came down

ve that she hopes to find hers in me. We both enjoy dallying. We both do it rather nicely." Maurice spoke now with his recovered light gaiet

Angela. You know the importance of material considerations as well as I do, so I'll not urge them, but add to them the fact that for some years you have bee

my urging you to marry for money. Poverty in your life is a drag that my Bohemianism can throw off. You do want a rich wife badly; and treating marriage as an unemotional business episode wouldn't jar upo

ng, "I don't urge an unemotional episode upon you. Your feeling for Angela is, I am quite sure, more than that. I only suggest that yo

the laugh, again throwing back his head, again clasping his ha

"I should be very sorry for you, an