just now. 'I didn't think he was fool enough'--thus only he
replied to Mrs. Handover's anxious questions.

Alma surveyed the book-shelves, and took down volumes with an air of
interest; she looked over a portfolio of photographs, inspected
mementoes of travel from Cyprus, Palestine, Bagdad. Mrs. Frothingham
noted to herself how dusty everything was.

'That woman neglects him scandalously,' she said afterwards to Alma. 'I
wish I had to look after her when she is at work.'

'I didn't notice any neglect. The tea wasn't very well made, perhaps.'

'My dear child! the room is in a disgraceful state--never dusted, never
cleaned--oh dear!'

Alma laughed.

'I'm quite sure, Mamma, you are much happier now--in one way--than when
you never had to think of such things. You have a genius for domestic
operations. When I have a house of my own I shall be rather afraid of
you.'

'Oh, of course you will have good servants, my dear.'

'How often have I to tell you, Mamma, that we're not going to live in
that way at all! The simplest possible furniture, the simplest possible
meals--_everything_ subordinate to the higher aims and pleasures.'

'But you must have servants, Alma! You can't sweep the rooms yourself,
and do the cooking?'

'I'm thinking about it,' the girl answered gravely. 'Of course, I shall
not waste my time in coarse labour; but I feel sure we shall need only
one servant--a competent, trustworthy woman, after your own heart. It's
snobbish to be ashamed of housework; there are all sorts of things I
should like to do, and that every woman is better for doing.'

'That is very true indeed, Alma. I can't say how I admire you for such
thoughts. But----'

'The thing is to reduce such work to the strictly necessary. Think of
all the toil that is wasted in people's houses, for foolish display and
luxury. We sweep all that away at one stroke! Wait till you see. I'm
thinking it out, making my plans.'

In the pleasant little drawing-room, by the fireside (for it was now
October and chilly), Harvey and Alma had long, long conversations.
Occasionally they said things that surprised each other and led to
explanations, debates, but harmony was never broken. Rolfe came away
ever more enslaved; more impressed by the girl's sweet reasonableness,
and exalted by her glowing idealism. Through amorous mists he still
endeavoured to discern the real Alma; he reflected ceaselessly upon her
character; yet, much as she often perplexed hi