use that critical detachment was a constant spur to his own vision,
compelling him to analyse the life into which, he had been born and was
about to marry. This process was disturbing; and to find out when it had
commenced, he had to go back to his meeting with Ferrand on the journey
up from Dover.

There was kindness in a hospitality which opened to so strange a bird;
admitting the kindness, Shelton fell to analysing it. To himself, to
people of his class, the use of kindness was a luxury, not significant
of sacrifice, but productive of a pleasant feeling in the heart, such
as massage will setup in the legs. "Everybody's kind," he thought; "the
question is, What understanding is there, what real sympathy?" This
problem gave him food for thought.

The progress, which Mrs. Dennant not unfrequently remarked upon, in
Ferrand's conquest of his strange position, seemed to Shelton but a
sign that he was getting what he could out of his sudden visit to green
pastures; under the same circumstances, Shelton thought that he himself
would do the same. He felt that the young foreigner was making a
convenient bow to property, but he had more respect for the sarcastic
smile on the lips of Ferrand's heart.

It was not long before the inevitable change came in the spirit of the
situation; more and more was Shelton conscious of a quaint uneasiness in
the very breathing of the household.

"Curious fellow you've got hold of there, Shelton," Mr. Dennant said to
him during a game of croquet; "he 'll never do any good for himself, I'm
afraid."

"In one sense I'm afraid not," admitted Shelton.

"Do you know his story? I will bet you sixpence"--and Mr. Dennant paused
to swing his mallet with a proper accuracy "that he's been in prison."

"Prison!" ejaculated Shelton.

"I think," said Mr. Dennant, with bent knees carefully measuring his
next shot, "that you ought to make inquiries--ah! missed it! Awkward
these hoops! One must draw the line somewhere."

"I never could draw," returned Shelton, nettled and uneasy; "but I
understand--I 'll give him a hint to go."

"Don't," said Mr. Dennant, moving after his second ball, which Shelton
had smitten to the farther end, "be offended, my dear Shelton, and by no
means give him a hint; he interests me very much--a very clever, quiet
young fellow."

That this was not his private view Shelton inferred by studying Mr.
Dennant's manner in the presence of the vagabond. Underlying the
well-bred ban