house.'

This was an unanswerable form of complimentary argument. Margaret
reflected on that strange law by which, when we have just heard for the
first time of a fact or a person, we are sure to come across it, or
him, again, within the next twenty-four hours. She did not believe that
Logotheti could be found at short notice and introduced to new
acquaintances so easily as the young scholar seemed to think; but she
made up her mind, if he came at all, that she would prevent him from
talking about their meeting at Madame Bonanni's, which she wished to
avoid mentioning for the present. That would be easy enough, for a man
of his tact would understand the slightest sign, and behave as if he
had not met her before.

In the afternoon she was alone with Lushington again. He was not at all
in an aggressive mood; indeed, he seemed rather depressed. They walked
slowly under the oaks and elms.

'What is the matter?' Margaret asked gently, after a silence.

'I have been thinking a great deal about you,' he answered.

'The thought seems to make you sad!' Margaret laughed, for she was very
happy.

'Yes. It does,' he answered, with a sigh that certainly was not
affected.

'But why?' she asked, growing grave at once.

'There is no reason why I should not tell you. After all, we know each
other too well to apologise for saying what we think. Don't we?'

'I hope so,' Margaret answered, wondering what he was going to say.

'But then,' said Lushington disconsolately, 'I am perfectly sure that
nothing I can say can have the slightest effect.'

'Who knows?' The young girl's lids drooped a little and then opened
again.

'You know.' He spoke gravely and with regret.

She tried to laugh.

'I wish I did! But what is it? There can be no harm in saying it!'

'You have made up your mind to be an opera-singer,' Lushington
answered. 'You have a beautiful voice, you have talent, you have been
well taught. You will succeed.'

He had never said as much as that about her singing, and she was
pleased. After many months of patient work, the acknowledgment of it
seemed to be all coming in one day.

'You talk as if you were quite sure.'

'Yes. You will succeed. But there is another side to it. Shall you
think me priggish and call me disagreeable if I tell you that it is no
life for a woman brought up like you?'

Margaret had just acquired some insight into the existence of the class
she meant to join, though by no means into the