--as she
subsequently reflected--potentially alarmingly capable of some such
primitive expression of feeling. For the shock of surprise which she
suffered was so forcible, that it induced in her an absurd unreasoning
instinct of flight. Indeed, that had happened, or rather was in process
of happening, which revolutionised all her outlook. For that the unseen
presence, consciousness of which had come to be so constant a quantity
in her action and her thought, should thus declare itself in visible
form, be materialised, become concrete, and that instantly, without
prologue or preparation, projecting itself wholesale--so to speak--into
the comfortable commonplaces of a Sunday luncheon--after her slightly
uproarious race home with a perfectly normal schoolboy, from morning
church too--affected her much as sudden intrusion of the supernatural
might. It modified all existing relations, introducing a new and, as
yet, incalculable element. Nor had she quite yet realised what power
the unseen Richard Calmady, these many years, had exercised over her
imagination, until Richard Calmady seen, was there evident, actually
before her. Then all the harsh judgments she had passed upon him, all
the disapproval of, and dislike she had felt towards, him, flashed
through her mind. And that matter too of his cancelled engagement!--The
last time she had seen him was in the house in Lowndes Square, on the
night of Lady Louisa Barking's great ball, standing--she could see all
that now--it was as if photographed upon her brain--always would
be--and it turned her a little sick.--Nevertheless it was impossible to
pause any longer. It would be ridiculous to fly, so she must stick it
out. That best of good Samaritans, Mary Ormiston, began talking to
Julius March across the length of the table.

"Oh dear, yes, of course," she was saying. "But I never realised she
was a sister of your old Oxford friend. I wish I had. It would have
been so pleasant to talk about you and about home in that far country!
Her husband is in the Rifle Brigade, and she really is a nice, dear
woman. I saw a great deal of her while we were at the Cape."

And so, under cover of Mary's kindly conversation, Miss St. Quentin
settled down into her lazy, swinging stride. Her small head carried
high, her pale, sensitive face very serious, her straight eyebrows
drawn together by concentration of purpose, concentration of thought,
she followed the boy up the long room.

As she came t