ousin--one elderly and
prosaic matron, and one young and sparkling brunette, who was busily
occupied flirting with three men at the same time, and seemed capable of
adding indefinitely to their number. For the rest, there were men in
shooting-coats and leather gaiters--old men, middle-aged men, young men,
all bronzed and healthy, and remarkably well satisfied with themselves
and their day's sport.

Hope studied them shyly as she nibbled at her scone. The buzz of
conversation had begun again by this time, and as her presence was
apparently forgotten, she was at leisure to pursue her investigations.
The stout, grey man was the husband of the prosaic lady. The merry
little man with the round bald head and the short legs was evidently an
intimate of the family, for he threw fresh logs on the fire, and even
dared to chaff Mrs Loftus herself. The fair youth with the eyeglass was
only pretending to be captivated by Miss Brunette; the older man with
the fair hair was seriously smitten; the tall, distinguished-looking
personage with the haughty eyelids and drooping moustache had the air of
being bored by everything and every one. Hope looked at him critically,
with a view to describing him to Theo. "He would make a splendid hero.
Dark features, sharply cut; two horizontal lines in his forehead; lazy
eyes that give a flash now and then, and show that he could be active
enough if he chose; a square chin; and such great, wide shoulders. He
looks quite different from the other men; and yet I don't know why he
should."

She looked him critically up and down, and her eyes, travelling upwards
again, found his studying her in return. It might have been an
embarrassing discovery, but before it had time to become so the man who
was different from other men had strolled across the hall, taken
possession of the seat by her side, and was inquiring if she felt tired
after her journey, in a tone which seemed to imply that he took not the
faintest possible interest in her reply.

"A little tired," said Hope prosaically, conscious that if Madge had
been in her place she would have been ready with a vivacious retort
which would have broken the ice of formality. She felt quite unable to
frame such a retort. Instead she said simply, "I am not particularly
fond of railway travelling, and I dislike changes. I never feel that I
can settle down comfortably when there is a change before me. Even if
it is two hours ahead, I cannot determin