e delighted in the frankness of
her speech; it was doubtful whether she regarded any subject as
improper for discussion between mature and serious people. Part cause
of this, perhaps, was her calm consciousness that she had not a
beautiful face. No, it was not beautiful; yet even at the first meeting
it did not repel him. Studying her features, he saw how fine was their
expression. The prominent forehead, with its little unevenness that
meant brains; the straight eyebrows, strongly marked, with deep
vertical furrows generally drawn between them; the chestnut-brown eyes,
with long lashes; the high-bridged nose, thin and delicate; the
intellectual lips, a protrusion of the lower one, though very slight,
marking itself when he caught her profile; the big, strong chin; the
shapely neck--why, after all, it was a kind of beauty. The head might
have been sculptured with fine effect. And she had a well-built frame.
He observed her strong wrists, with exquisite vein-tracings on the pure
white. Probably her constitution was very sound; she had good teeth,
and a healthy brownish complexion.

With reference to the sick girl whom Miss Barfoot was visiting, Everard
began what was practically a resumption of their last talk.

'Have you a formal society, with rules and so on?'

'Oh no; nothing of the kind.'

'But you of course select the girls whom you instruct or employ?'

'Very carefully.'

'How I should like to see them all!--I mean,' he added, with a laugh,
'it would be so very interesting. The truth is, my sympathies are
strongly with you in much of what you said the other day about women
and marriage. We regard the matter from different points of view, but
our ends are the same.'

Rhoda moved her eyebrows, and asked calmly,--

'Are you serious?'

'Perfectly. You are absorbed in your present work, that of
strengthening women's minds and character; for the final issue of this
you can't care much. But to me that is the practical interest. In my
mind, you are working for the happiness of men.'

'Indeed?' escaped Rhoda's lips, which had curled in irony.

'Don't misunderstand me. I am not speaking cynically or trivially. The
gain of women is also the gain of men. You are bitter against the
average man for his low morality; but that fault, on the whole, is
directly traceable to the ignobleness of women. Think, and you will
grant me this.'

'I see what you mean. Men have themselves to thank for it.'

'Assuredly they have