mistaken. In a few moments he cheated again, this time beyond any
possible doubt. She flushed with vexation. It seemed to her an
enormous thing. She was just on the point of throwing down her cards
when Mrs. Payne's story came back to her. Instead of dislike she felt
a sudden wave of pity and wonder. She had wanted, on the spur of the
moment, to give him away; but she realised that this would only
discredit him with the other boys and probably lay him open to a sort
of persecution. If he wasn't really responsible, that would be a pity;
and so she held her tongue.

All the same she couldn't go on playing cards with him. She knew that
if she did she would be bound to continue on the look-out, and be
shocked by a series of these ugly incidents. She asked Considine if he
would read to them, and he consented readily. He liked reading aloud,
partly because he was, not unreasonably, vain of his speaking voice and
partly because the practice was part of his theory of education. At
that time he was reading Stevenson, an author who was supposed to
combine a flawless literary style with the soundest moral precepts and
an attitude towards life that encouraged the manly virtues peculiar to
Englishmen. Gabrielle enjoyed his reading thoroughly, for she had so
much of the boy in herself, and was quite unacquainted with any
Victorian literature. He read _Catriona_ slowly, and with gusto.
Gabrielle from her corner watched Arthur Payne, sprawling on a sofa at
the edge of the lamp-light. He was really a remarkably handsome young
animal with his fair hair tangled and his hands clasped on his knees.
She could see his eyes in the gloom. They seemed to burn with
eagerness while he listened, as though his imagination were on fire
within. She forgot that Considine was reading and went on watching the
boy. It seemed to her incredible that it was he whom she had detected
in such a deliberate dishonour half an hour before. It was melancholy.
She felt most awfully sorry for him. She wished, above all things,
that she could help him. People said that he was beyond help. In the
end he became conscious of her scrutiny and smiled across at her. And
this broke the spell of reflection. She heard Considine's voice:

_'I will take up the defence of your reputation,' she said. 'You may
leave it in my hands.' And with that she withdrew out of the library._
"That's the end of chapter nineteen."

He closed the book, putting a marker