and far away in Edinburgh. He felt almost a responsibility with regard
to Stella, a highly moral sensation of knowing better the world and its
pitfalls than she could. He feared for the effect of its lure upon
Stella and her vanity, and was very anxious his sister should always
comport herself with credit to her only brother. In his mother's
attitude Michael seemed to discern a dangerous inclination not to
trouble about Stella's habit of thought. He resolved, when he and Stella
were alone together, to address his young sister seriously. Stella's
nonchalance alarmed him more and more deeply as he began to look back at
his own life and to survey his wasted years. Michael felt he must
convince Stella that earnestness was her only chance.

"You're growing very fast, Michael," said his mother one morning.
"Really I think you're getting too big for Etons."

Michael critically examined himself in his mother's toilet-glass and had
to admit that his sleeves looked short and that his braces showed too
easily under his waistcoat. The fact that he could no longer survey his
reflection calmly and that he dreaded to see Stella admire herself
showed him something was wrong.

"Perhaps I'd better get a new suit," he suggested.

In his blue serge suit, wearing what the shops called a Polo or
Shakespeare collar, Michael felt more at ease, although the sleeves were
now as much too long as lately his old sleeves were too short. The
gravity of this new suit confirmed his impression that age was stealing
upon him and made him the more inclined to lecture Stella. This desire
of his seemed to irritate his mother, who would protest:

"Michael, do leave poor Stella alone. I can't think why you've suddenly
altered. One would think you'd got the weight of the world on your
shoulders."

"Like Atlas," commented Michael gloomily.

"I don't know who it's like," said Mrs. Fane. "But it's very
disagreeable for everybody round you."

"Michael always thinks he knows about everything," Stella put in
spitefully.

"Oh, shut up!" growled Michael.

He was beginning to feel that his mother admired Stella more than
himself, and the old jealousy of her returned. He was often reproved for
being untidy and, although he was no longer inky and grubby, he did
actually find that his hair refused to grow neatly and that he was
growing clumsy both in manners and appearance. Stella always remained
cool and exasperatingly debonair under his rebukes, whereas he