cing back with bare hands the great hound which had attacked her. A
quick thrill--the thrill of primitive woman--ran through her at the
recollection. No woman can remain unmoved by physical courage--more
especially if it is her own imperative need which has called it forth.

That was the side of Roger which she liked best to dwell upon. But she
was rapidly learning that he had other less heroically attractive
sides. No man who has been consistently spoiled and made much of by a
couple of women is likely to escape developing a certain amount of
selfishness, and Nan had already discovered that Roger was somewhat
inclined to play the autocrat. As he grew accustomed to her presence
in the house he settled down more or less tranquilly into the normal
ways of existence, and sometimes, when things went awry, he would lose
his temper pretty badly, as is the natural way of man.

Unfortunately, Nan's honest endeavours to get on better terms with her
future mother-in-law met with no success. Lady Gertrude had presented
an imperturbably polite and hostile front almost from the moment of the
girl's arrival at the Hall. Even at dinner the first evening, she had
cast a disapproving eye upon Nan's frock--a diaphanous little garment
in black: with veiled gleams of hyacinth and gold beneath the surface
and apparently sustained about its wearer by a thread of the same
glistening hyacinth and gold across each slender shoulder.

With the quickness of a squirrel Isobel Carson, demurely garbed as
befitted a poor relative, noted the disapprobation conveyed by Lady
Gertrude's sweeping glance.

"I suppose that's what they're wearing now in town?" she asked
conversationally of Nan across the table.

Roger looked up and seeing the young, privet-white throat and shoulders
which gleamed above the black, smiled contentedly.

"It's jolly pretty, isn't it?" he rejoined, innocently unaware that any
intention lurked behind his cousin's query.

"It might be--if there were more of it," said Lady Gertrude icily. She
had not failed to notice earlier that Nan was wearing the abbreviated
skirt of the moment--though in no way an exaggerated form of
it--revealing delectable shoes and cobwebby stockings which seemed to
cry out a gay defiance to the plain and serviceable footgear which she
herself affected.

"It does look just a tiny bit daring--in the country," murmured Isobel
deprecatingly. "You see, we're used to such quiet fashions here."

"