tion, used a _pince-nez_, which
invariably leaped from the bridge of her nose in her subsequent
excitement. It was leaping now.

"Mr. Durant, Miss Tancred is trying to say something to you."

He turned with a dim, belated courtesy as his hostess repeated for
the third time her innocent query, "I hope you like your room?"

He murmured some assent, laying stress on his appreciation of the
flowers and the books.

"You must thank Mrs. Fazakerly for those; it was she who put them
there."

"Indeed? That was very pretty of Mrs. Fazakerly."

"Mrs. Fazakerly is always doing pretty things. I can't say that I
am."

In Miss Tancred's eyes there was none of the expectancy that betrays
the fisher of compliments. If she had followed that gentle craft she
must have abandoned it long ago; no fish had ever risen to wriggling
worm, to phantom minnow or to May-fly, to Miss Tancred's groveling
or flirting or flight; no breath of flattery could ever have bubbled
in men's eyes--those icy waters where she, poor lady, saw her own
face. Durant would have been highly amused if she had angled; as it
was, he was disgusted with her. It is the height of bad taste for
any woman to run herself down, and the more sincere the depreciation
the worse the offense, as implying a certain disregard for your
valuable opinion. Apparently it had struck Mrs. Fazakerly in this
light, for she shook her head reproachfully at Miss Tancred.

"If Mr. Durant had been staying with _me_, I should have packed him
into the bachelor's bedroom with his Bible and his Shakespeare."

Miss Tancred, accused of graciousness, explained herself away. "I
put you on the south side because you've just come from the
Mediterranean; I thought you would like the sun."

Why could he not say that it was pretty of Miss Tancred?

The Colonel had pricked up his ears at the illuminating word.

"What sort of weather did you have when you were in Italy?"

It was the first time that he had shown the faintest interest in
Durant's travels. He seemed to regard him as a rather limited young
man who had come to Coton Manor to get his mind let out an inch or
two.

Durant replied that as far as he could remember it was fine when he
arrived in Rome two years ago, and it was fine when he left Florence
the other day.

The Colonel shrugged his shoulders. "Ah, I don't call that weather.
I like a variable barometer. I cannot stand monotony." As he spoke
he looked at his daughter. In a less per