at you've escaped by this year or
two in Germany, you're mightily mistaken.--Back to me you're coming."

But May Eversley was different from the other girls. She was different
because she saw things without a muddle, knew what she wanted, knew what
she disliked, knew what was delightful, knew what was intolerable.

To Rachel this clear-cut decision was more enviable than any other
quality that one could have. At this stage of her experience it was the
assent, so it seemed to her, that could give life its intensest value.
"Sit down and see, without any exaggeration or false colouring, what
you've got. Take away, ruthlessly, anything that you imagine that you've
got but haven't. See what you want. Take away ruthlessly everything
that you imagine that you would like to have but are not confident of
securing. See what's happened to you in the past. Take away ruthlessly
any sentimental repentances or sloppy regrets, but learn quite
resolutely from your ugly mistakes."

Rachel's world had hitherto been limited very largely to the schoolroom
in Portland Place, the park and Beaminster House, the country
place-in-chief (three others, one in Leicestershire, one in
Northumberland, one in Norfolk), but even within this limited country
the terrific importance of those rules was driven in upon her.

She felt that her grandmother was clear-headed, but, no, none of the
others--not Aunt Adela, nor the uncles, nor any of the governesses. She
was allowed to meet one or two little boys and girls of her own age. She
walked with them in the park, played with them at Beaminster House, had
tea with them occasionally, but they were, none of them, clear-headed.

She was not priggish about this discovery of hers. She did not despise
other people because their definite rules did not seem to them of
importance. She did not talk about these things.

To see facts very steadily without blinking was impelled upon her by the
necessity for courage. It was the only weapon wherewith to fight her
grandmother. "Now," she might say to herself, "this half-hour of yours.
Is it so bad? What definitely do you fear about it? Is it the knock at
the door? Is it the crossing the room? Is it answering questions?"

So challenged her terror did fall, a little, away from her, ashamed at
its inadequate cause. So she went to face every peril--"Is the danger
really so bad? What exactly is it?..."

May Eversley was thin and spare, small with sharp features, pince-nez,