Grantly to the Shop. And this was
considered the very limit. Fate had done its worst.

No party: no relaxation of the rules as to absence of noise and
presence of perfect regularity and punctuality at meals: no cheerful
gathering together of neighbouring families for all sorts of
junkettings; in fact, none of the usual features of the last fortnight
of the Christmas holidays. And yet, in looking back afterwards, the
young Ffolliots, with, perhaps, the exception of the unfortunate Buz,
would have confessed that on the whole they had had rather a good time.
Mary, in particular, would have owned frankly, had she been asked, that
she had never enjoyed a holiday more.

For one thing, the big boys had been "so nice to her," and by "the big
boys" she meant Grantly and Reggie Peel.

She and Grantly had always been great allies. When they were little
they did everything together, for the three and a half years that
separated Mary from the twins seemed, till they should all get into the
twenties, an immeasurable distance. But Grantly hitherto had been no
more polite and considerate than the average brother. He was both
critical and plain-spoken, and poor Mary had suffered many things at
his hands . . . till this holiday; and it never occurred to her that
this agreeable change in Grantly's attitude might be due to some
alteration in herself rather than in him.

Mary was far too interested in life with a big "L" to waste any time
upon self-analysis or introspection. Neither she nor Grantly had ever
referred to the night of young Rabbich's dinner at the Moonstone, but
since that night she had been distinctly conscious of a slightly more
respectful quality in his manner towards her. The tendency was
indefinable, illusive, but it was there, and simple-minded Mary only
reflected gratefully that Grantly was "growing up awfully nice."

Regarding Reggie Peel, however, she did venture to think that she must
be rather more attractive than she used to be; and complacently
attributed his new gentleness to the fact that she had put up her hair
since she last saw him.

Gentleness was by no means one of Reggie's chief characteristics. He
was ruthless where his own ends were concerned, tirelessly hard
working, amusing, and of a caustic tongue: a cheerful pessimist who
expected the very least of his fellow-creatures, until such time as
they had given some proof that he might expect more. Yet there were a
favoured few, a very few,