would be the most remarkable thing about her were it not
for her beauty, which is more remarkable still; it is her beauty, I
think, that makes her, young as she is, so 'definite,' as you call it."

"We seem to have much the same idea of her," said Winthrop. "I shouldn't
have thought it possible," he added.

"That we should agree in anything?" said Margaret, with a faint smile.

"No, not that; but a woman so seldom has the same idea of another woman
that a man has. And--if you will allow me to say it--I think the man's
idea often the more correct one, for a woman will betray (confide, if
you like the term better) more of her inner nature, her real self, to a
man, when she knows him well and likes him, than she ever will to any
woman, no matter how well she may know and like her."

Margaret concurred in this.

"So you agree with me there too? Another surprise! What I have said is
true enough, but women generally dispute it."

"What you have said is true, after a fashion," Margaret answered. "But
the inner feelings you speak of, the real self, which a woman confides
to the man she likes rather than to a woman, these are generally her
ideal feelings, her ideal self; what she thinks she feels, or hopes to
feel, rather than the actual feeling; what she wishes to be, rather than
what she is. She may or may not attain her ideal; but in the mean time
she is judged, by those of her own sex at least, according to her
present qualities, what she has already attained; what she is
practically, and every day."

"So you think it is her ideals that Garda has confided to me? What sort
of an ideal was Lucian Spenser!"

"Garda is an exception; she has no ideals."

"Oh! don't make her out so disagreeable."

"I couldn't make her out disagreeable even if I should try," answered
Margaret. "All I mean is that her nature is so easy, so sunny, that it
has never occurred to her to be discontented; and if you are contented
you don't have ideals."

"Now you are making her out self-complacent."

"No, only simple; richly natural and healthy. She puts the rest of us
(women, I mean) to shame--the rest of us with our complicated motives,
and involved consciences."

"I hope you don't mean to say that Garda has no conscience?"

Margaret looked up; she saw that he was smiling. "She has quite enough
for her happiness," she answered, smiling too.

But in spite of the smile he detected a melancholy in her tone. And this
he instantly resented