your own life, you mean?'

She nodded.

'You have once or twice spoken of that time as if you were not quite
happy in the present.'

'Of course I am not quite happy. What woman is? I mean, what woman
above the level of a petted pussy-cat?'

Everard was leaning towards her on the head of the couch where he sat.
He gazed into her face fixedly.

'I wish it were in my power to remove some of your discontents. I
would, more gladly than I can tell you.'

'You abound in good nature, Mr. Barfoot,' she replied laughing. 'But
unfortunately you can't change the world.'

'Not the world at large. But might I not change your views of it--in
some respects?'

'Indeed I don't see how you could. I think I had rather have my own
view than any you might wish to substitute for it.'

In this humour she seemed more than ever a challenge to his manhood.
She was armed at all points. She feared nothing that he might say. No
flush of apprehension; no nervous tremor; no weak self-consciousness.
Yet he saw her as a woman, and desirable.

'My views are not ignoble,' he murmured.

'I hope not. But they are the views of a man.'

'Man and woman ought to see life with much the same eyes.'

'Ought they? Perhaps so. I am not sure. But they never will in our
time.'

'Individuals may. The man and woman who have thrown away prejudice and
superstition. You and I, for instance.'

'Oh, those words have such different meanings. In your judgment I
should seem full of idle prejudice.'

She liked this conversation; he read pleasure in her face, saw in her
eyes a glint of merry defiance. And his pulses throbbed the quicker for
it.

'You have a prejudice against _me_, for instance.'

'Pray, did you go to the Savoy?' inquired Rhoda absently.

'I have no intention of talking about the Savoy, Miss Nunn. It is
teacup time, but as yet we have the room to ourselves.'

Rhoda went and rang the bell.

'The teacups shall come at once.'

He laughed slightly, and looked at her from beneath drooping lids.
Rhoda went on with talk of trifles, until the tea was brought and she
had given a cup. Having emptied it at two draughts, he resumed his
former leaning position.

'Well, you were saying that you had a prejudice against me. Of course
my cousin Mary is accountable for that. Mary has used me rather ill.
Before ever you saw me, I represented to your mind something very
disagreeable indeed. That was too bad of my cousin.'

Rhoda, sipping her tea, had