were, she was quite unaware of it, for under Miss
Frost's care she received no education in irony or mockery. Miss
Frost was straightforward, good-humoured, and a little earnest.
Consequently Alvina, or Vina as she was called, understood only the
explicit mode of good-humoured straightforwardness.

It was doubtful which shadow was greater over the child: that of
Manchester House, gloomy and a little sinister, or that of Miss
Frost, benevolent and protective. Sufficient that the girl herself
worshipped Miss Frost: or believed she did.

Alvina never went to school. She had her lessons from her beloved
governess, she worked at the piano, she took her walks, and for
social life she went to the Congregational Chapel, and to the
functions connected with the chapel. While she was little, she went
to Sunday School twice and to Chapel once on Sundays. Then
occasionally there was a magic lantern or a penny reading, to which
Miss Frost accompanied her. As she grew older she entered the choir
at chapel, she attended Christian Endeavour and P.S.A., and the
Literary Society on Monday evenings. Chapel provided her with a
whole social activity, in the course of which she met certain groups
of people, made certain friends, found opportunity for strolls into
the country and jaunts to the local entertainments. Over and above
this, every Thursday evening she went to the subscription library to
change the week's supply of books, and there again she met friends
and acquaintances. It is hard to overestimate the value of church or
chapel--but particularly chapel--as a social institution, in places
like Woodhouse. The Congregational Chapel provided Alvina with a
whole outer life, lacking which she would have been poor indeed. She
was not particularly religious by inclination. Perhaps her father's
beautiful prayers put her off. So she neither questioned nor
accepted, but just let be.

She grew up a slim girl, rather distinguished in appearance, with a
slender face, a fine, slightly arched nose, and beautiful grey-blue
eyes over which the lids tilted with a very odd, sardonic tilt. The
sardonic quality was, however, quite in abeyance. She was ladylike,
not vehement at all. In the street her walk had a delicate,
lingering motion, her face looked still. In conversation she had
rather a quick, hurried manner, with intervals of well-bred repose
and attention. Her voice was like her father's, flexible and
curiously attractive.

Sometimes, howeve