ave plenty of courage,
and quite enough obstinacy. It rather does me good when people show
they have no faith in me.'

'You didn't understand,' murmured Harvey.

'Then make me understand,' she exclaimed nervously, moving in the chair
as if about to stand up, but remaining seated and bent forward, her
eyes fixed upon him in a sort of good-humoured challenge. 'I believe I
know what you mean, all the time. You didn't discuss me with Mamma, as
I suspected, but you think about me just as she does.--No, let me go
on, then you shall confess I was right. You have no faith in my powers,
to begin with. It seems to you very unlikely that an everyday sort of
girl, whom you have met in society and know all about, should develop
into a great artist. No faith--that's the first thing. Then you are so
kind as to have fears for me--yes, it was your own word. You think that
you know the world, whilst I am ignorant of it, and that it's a sort of
duty to offer warnings.'

Harvey's all but angry expression, as he listened and fidgeted,
suddenly stopped her.

'Well! Can you deny that these things are in your mind?'

'They are not in my mind at this moment, that's quite certain,' said
Harvey bluntly.

'Then, what is?'

'Something it isn't easy to say, when you insist on quarrelling with
me. Why do you use this tone? Do I strike you as a pedagogue, a
preacher--something of that sort?'

His energy in part subdued her. She smiled uneasily.

'No. I don't see you in that light.'

'So much the better. I wanted to appear to you simply a man, and one
who has--perhaps--the misfortune to see in _you_ only a very beautiful
and a very desirable woman.'

Alma sat motionless. Her smile had passed, vanishing in a swift gleam
of pleasure which left her countenance bright, though grave. In the
same moment there sounded again a rat-tat at the outer door. Through
his whirling senses, Harvey was aware of the threatened interruption,
and all but cursed aloud. That Alma had the same expectation appeared
in her moving so as to assume a more ordinary attitude; but she uttered
the word that had risen to her lips.

'The misfortune, you call it?'

Harvey followed her example in disposing his limbs more conventionally;
also in the tuning of his voice to something between jest and earnest.

'I said _perhaps_ the misfortune.'

'It makes a difference, certainly.' She smiled, her eyes turned to the
door. '_Perhaps_ is a great word; one of the most useful