through her blood dispersed any hesitating strangeness that sometimes
gathers during absences, caused by girlish dread of a step to take,
or shame at the step taken, when coldish gentlemen rather create these
backflowings and gaps in the feelings. She had grown reconciled to
the perturbation of his messages, and would have preferred to have
him startling and thrilling her from a distance; but seeing him, she
welcomed him, and feeling in his bright presence not the faintest chill
of the fit of shyness, she took her bravery of heart for a sign that
she had reached his level, and might own it by speaking of the practical
measures to lead to their union. On one subject sure to be raised
against him by her parents, she had a right to be inquisitive: the
baroness.

She asked to see a photograph of her.

Alvan gave her one out of his pocketbook, and watched her eyelids in
profile as she perused those features of the budless grey woman. The
eyelids in such scrutinies reveal the critical mind; Clotilde's drooped
till they almost closed upon their lashes--deadly criticism.

'Think of her age,' said Alvan, colouring. He named a grandmaternal date
for the year of the baroness's birth.

Her eyebrows now stood up; her contemplation of those disenchanting
lineaments came to an abrupt finish.

She returned the square card to him, slowly shaking her head, still
eyeing earth as her hand stretched forth the card laterally. He could
not contest the woeful verdict.

'Twenty years back!' he murmured, writhing. The baroness was a woman
fair to see in the days twenty years back, though Clotilde might think
it incredible: she really was once.

Clotilde resumed her doleful shaking of the head; she sighed. He
shrugged; she looked at him, and he blinked a little. For the first time
since they had come together she had a clear advantage, and as it was
likely to be a rare occasion, she did not let it slip. She sighed again.
He was wounded by her underestimate of his ancient conquest.

'Yes--now,' he said, impatiently.

'I cannot feel jealousy, I cannot feel rivalry,' said she, sad of voice.

The humour of her tranced eyes in the shaking head provoked him to
defend the baroness for her goodness of heart, her energy of brain.

Clotilde 'tolled' her naughty head.

'But it is a strong face,' she said, 'a strong face--a strong jaw, by
Lavater! You were young--and daringly adventurous; she was captivating
in her distress. Now she is old--a