ortioned,
so balanced, and so well clothed, that Euphemia's instinctive propriety
was at once alarmed; such figures, she knew, by intuition rather than
experience, were rarely connected with virtue--certainly never in her
mind, for her own back was somewhat difficult to fit.

Her suspicions were fortunately confirmed. A young man coming from the
Drugs had snatched off his hat, and was accosting the lady with the
unknown back.

It was then that she saw with whom she had to deal; the lady was
undoubtedly Mrs. Soames, the young man Mr. Bosinney. Concealing herself
rapidly over the purchase of a box of Tunisian dates, for she was
impatient of awkwardly meeting people with parcels in her hands, and
at the busy time of the morning, she was quite unintentionally an
interested observer of their little interview.

Mrs. Soames, usually somewhat pale, had a delightful colour in her
cheeks; and Mr. Bosinney's manner was strange, though attractive (she
thought him rather a distinguished-looking man, and George's name for
him, 'The Buccaneer'--about which there was something romantic--quite
charming). He seemed to be pleading. Indeed, they talked so
earnestly--or, rather, he talked so earnestly, for Mrs. Soames did not
say much--that they caused, inconsiderately, an eddy in the traffic. One
nice old General, going towards Cigars, was obliged to step quite out of
the way, and chancing to look up and see Mrs. Soames' face, he actually
took off his hat, the old fool! So like a man!

But it was Mrs. Soames' eyes that worried Euphemia. She never once
looked at Mr. Bosinney until he moved on, and then she looked after him.
And, oh, that look!

On that look Euphemia had spent much anxious thought. It is not too much
to say that it had hurt her with its dark, lingering softness, for
all the world as though the woman wanted to drag him back, and unsay
something she had been saying.

Ah, well, she had had no time to go deeply into the matter just
then, with that prunella silk on her hands; but she was 'very
intriguee'--very! She had just nodded to Mrs. Soames, to show her that
she had seen; and, as she confided, in talking it over afterwards, to
her chum Francie (Roger's daughter), "Didn't she look caught out
just?..."

James, most averse at the first blush to accepting any news confirmatory
of his own poignant suspicions, took her up at once.

"Oh" he said, "they'd be after wall-papers no doubt."

Euphemia smiled. "In the Grocerie