elligent man. Him I shall make use of, telling him nothing of my
wider aims, but simply getting him to discover for me the dozen or so
of men who would be likely to care for my lectures. By-the-by, the man
of whom I was speaking, the father of Mrs. Ormonde's patient, lives in
Lambeth; I shall certainly make an effort to draw him into the net!'

'I shall be curious to hear more of him,' said Mr. Newthorpe. 'And you
use English literature to tune the minds of your hearers?'

'That is my thought. I have spent my month in Jersey in preparing a
couple of introductory lectures. It seems to me that if I can get them
to understand what is meant by love of literature, pure and simple,
without a thought of political or social purpose--especially without a
thought of cash profit, which is so disastrously blended with what
little knowledge they acquire--I shall be on the way to founding my
club of social reformers. I shall be most careful not to alarm them
with hints that I mean more than I say. Here arc certain interesting
English books; let us see what they are about, who wrote them, and why
they are deemed excellent. That is our position. These men must get on
a friendly footing with me. Little by little I shall talk with them
more familiarly, try to understand each one. Success depends upon my
personal influence. I may find that it is inadequate, yet I have hope.
Naturally, I have points of contact with the working class which are
lacking to most educated men; a little chance, and I should myself have
been a mechanic or something of the kind. This may make itself felt; I
believe it will.'

Night was falling. The last hue of sunset had died from the swarth
hills, and in the east were pale points of starlight.

'I think you and I must go in, Paula,' said Annabel, when there had
been silence for a little.

Paula rose without speaking, but as she was about to enter the house
she turned back and said to Egremont:

'I get tired so soon, being so much in the open air. I'd better say
good-night.'

Her uncle, when he held her hand, stroked it affectionately. He often
laughed at the child's manifold follies, but her prettiness and the
_naivete_ which sweetened her inbred artificiality had won his liking.
Much as it would have astonished Paula had she known it, his feeling
was for the most part one of pity.

'I suppose you'll go out again?' Paula said to her cousin as they
entered the drawing-room.

'No; I shall read a little a