ather, I do like him! I promised I would. I think he is very
kind!"

The two elders exchanged glances of baffled helplessness. There was
silence for a few minutes, then Mr Bertrand seated himself by Lettice's
side and took her hand in his.

"My dear little girl, let us understand each other. Of course he is
`kind'; of course you `like him,' but that is not enough; you must do
something more than `like' the man who is to be your husband. Do you
care for him more than for me and Miss Carr, and your sisters and
brothers all together? If he were on one side of the scale and we on
the other, which would you choose? That is the way to face the
question. You must not be satisfied with less. My dear, you are very
young yet; I think you had better let me tell Mr Newcome that he is not
to mention this matter again for the next two years, until you are
twenty-one. By that time you will know your own mind, and, if you still
wished it, I should have no more to say. You would be willing to leave
it in that way, wouldn't you, dear?"

But Lettice did not look at all willing. She drew her hand away from
her father's grasp, and turned her shoulder on him with a pettish
gesture which was strangely unlike her usual sweet demeanour.

"Why should I wait? There is nothing to wait for! I thought you would
be pleased. It's very unkind to spoil it all! Other girls are happy
when they are engaged, and people are kind to them. You might let me be
happy too--"

Mr Bertrand sat bolt upright in his seat, staring at his daughter with
incredulous eyes. Could it be possible that the girl was in earnest
after all, that she was really attached to this most heavy and
unattractive young man? He looked appealingly at his old friend, who,
so far, had taken no part in the conversation, and she took pity on his
embarrassment and came to the rescue. Two years' constant companionship
with Lettice had shown her that there was a large amount of obstinacy
hidden beneath the sweetness of manner, and for the girl's sake, as well
as her father's, she thought the present interview had better come to an
end.

"Suppose you go to the library and have a smoke, Austin, while Lettice
and I have a quiet talk together," she said soothingly, and Mr Bertrand
shrugged his shoulders with a gesture of nervous irritation, and strode
from the room.

No sooner had the door closed behind him than Lettice produced a little
lace-edged handkerchief from her poc