ly? You are not really conventional
in mind. You have thoughts and emotions infinitely above those of
average girls. Do recognize your own superiority. I spoke in a
speculative way. One may speculate about anything and everything--if
one has the brains. You certainly are not made to go through life with
veiled eyes and a tongue tuned to the common phrases. Do yourself
justice, dear girl. However other people regard you, I from the first
have seen what it was in you to become."

It was adroit flattery; Serena reddened, averted her face, smiled a
little, and kept silence.

That day he did not follow up his advantage. But on taking leave of
Serena early in the afternoon, he looked into her eyes with expressive
steadiness, and again she blushed.

A little later, several ladies were gathered in the drawing-room. On
Thursdays Mrs. Mumbray received her friends; sat as an embodiment of
the domestic virtues and graces. To-day the talk was principally on
that recent addition to Polterham society, Mrs. Denzil Quarrier.

"I haven't seen her yet," said Mrs. Mumbray, with her air of
superiority. "They say she is pretty but rather childish."

"But what is this mystery about the marriage?" inquired a lady who had
just entered, and who threw herself upon the subject with eagerness.
(It was Mrs. Roach, the wife of an alderman.) "Why was it abroad? She
is English, I think?"

"Oh no!" put in Mrs. Tenterden, a large and very positive person. "She
is a Dane--like the Princess of Wales. I have seen her. I recognized
the cast of features at once."

An outcry from three ladies followed. They knew Mrs. Quarrier was
English. They had seen her skating at Bale Water. One of them had heard
her speak--it was pure English.

"I thought every one knew," returned Mrs. Tenterden, with stately
deliberation, "that the Danes have a special gift for languages. The
Princess of Wales"----

"But, indeed," urged the hostess, "she is of English birth. We know it
from Mr. Eustace Glazzard, who is one of their friends."

"Then _why_ were they married abroad?" came in Mrs. Roach's shrill
voice. "_Can_ English people be legitimately married abroad? I always
understood that the ceremony had to be repeated in England."

"It was at Paris," said Mrs. Walker, the depressed widow of a bankrupt
corn-merchant. "There is an English church there, I have heard."

The others, inclined to be contemptuous of this authority, regarded
each other with doubt.

"Still,"