eye was upon her for a moment; then Mrs.
Hartley's face expanded in a benignant smile.

"Ah, I see you are very clever," she said. "I ask the question--not from
idle curiosity, because I have representatives of both in the room at
the present moment. There is a poet, whom I mean to introduce you to by
and by, if you will allow me; and there is the very embodiment of prose
close beside you, although I don't believe that he writes any, and, like
M. Jourdain, talks it without knowing that it is prose."

Lettice glanced involuntarily at the man beside her, and glanced again.
Where had she seen his face before? He was a rather stout, blonde man,
with an honest open countenance that she liked, although it expressed
good nature rather than intellectual force.

"Don't you remember him?" said Mrs. Hartley, in her ear. "He's a cousin
of mine: Brooke Dalton, whose uncle used to live at Angleford. He has
been wanting to meet you very much; he remembers you quite well, he
tells me."

The color rose in Lettice's face. She was feminine enough to feel that a
connecting link between Mrs. Hartley and her dear old home changed her
views of her hostess at once. She looked up and smiled. "I remember Mr.
Dalton too," she said.

"What a sweet face!" Mrs. Hartley said to herself. "Now if Brooke would
only take it into his head to settle down----"

And aloud she added: "Brooke, come and be introduced to Miss Campion.
You used to know her at Angleford."

"It seems a long time since I saw you," Mr. Dalton said, rather
clumsily, as he took Lettice's hand into a very cordial clasp. "It was
that day in December when your brother had just got his scholarship at
Trinity."

"Oh, yes; that day! I remember it very well," said Lettice, drawing a
long breath, which was not exactly a sigh, although it sounded like one.
"I gave up being a child on that day, I believe!"

"There have been many changes since then." Brooke Dalton was not
brilliant in conversation.

"You have heard of them all, I suppose? Yes, my mother and I are in
London now."

"You will allow me to call, I hope?"

Lettice had but time to signify her consent, when Mrs. Hartley seized on
her again, but this time Lettice did not so much object to be
cross-examined. She recognized the fact that Mrs. Hartley's aim was
kindly, and she submitted to be asked questions about her work and her
prospects, and to answer them with a frankness that amazed herself. But
in the very midst of the