was a proud
girl, and was not accustomed to being dictated to. All the same, she
felt much interested in what he had said, and she found herself thinking
of him again and again. There was something romantic, too, in his story
which, in spite of its improbability, she could not help believing, and
although she felt very angry with him, she sympathised with the feelings
he had expressed. Months before she had been annoyed at the thought that
her father should have been opposed by one who was little removed from
the working classes. She remembered him as she had first seen him, at
the shop in Market Street, pale, angry, and, as it seemed to her, coarse.
He spoke as one of his own class, too, and he was rough and rude. But
that view had become somewhat corrected, and she had to admit to herself
that Paul Stepaside was no awkward, ignorant, ill-dressed clown. Indeed,
for that matter, he had the advantage of most young men of her
acquaintance. His coal-black eyes and hair, his pale face and stalwart
figure, would be noticed anywhere. Besides, he was well-dressed, and
although he knew but little of the ways of her world, she knew that he
would never be passed without notice. Besides all this, there was a
suggestion of strength in nearly every word he said, in every tone of his
voice, and Mary Bolitho had a great admiration for strong men. Young
Edward Wilson, whose pointed attentions she could not mistake, seemed but
as a pigmy compared with him. Still, she felt angry, and she rejoiced in
the thought that, on his own admission, she was helping towards his
defeat.

Later in the evening, Paul Stepaside became the subject of a conversation
at Howden Clough, but Mary said no word as to their meeting. Indeed, she
was silent whenever his name was mentioned. On the following day, young
Ned Wilson was much chagrined when she declared her intention of
returning home. "Why, Miss Bolitho," he said, "you told me you had
arranged to canvass Long Street this week, and that will take you at
least three days. Yesterday I heard that you had converted at least a
dozen people, and we cannot afford to lose you now. It is all over the
town, too, that Stepaside is awfully mad at your success. I think he
hates you nearly as much as he hates your father."

"I don't feel like canvassing now," she replied. "And I'm anxious to get
back home."

"But you will come again soon?" he urged. "The house seems like a tomb
without you, and