te
position before the mirror over the chimney-piece, and stood there for
a little, looking at himself and caressing his moustache.

"You talk a great deal too much, Beth," he said at last.

"Do you think so?" she rejoined.

"Yes, I do," he assured her. "Of course Galbraith had to be polite and
affect to listen, but I could see that he was bored by your chatter.
He naturally wanted to talk to me about things that interest men."

"Then why on earth didn't he talk to you?" Beth asked.

"How could he when you monopolised the conversation?"

"It was he who kept me talking," she protested.

"Oh yes; I notice you are very animated when anything in the shape of
a man comes in," Dan sneered.

Beth got up and left the room, less affected by the insinuation,
however, than by the vulgar expression of it.

The following week Sir George came in one morning with some cuttings,
and stayed a while in the garden with Beth, showing her how to set
them; but he would not wait for lunch. Dan showed considerable
annoyance when he heard of the visit.

"He should come when I am at home," he said. "It is damned bad taste
his coming when you are alone."

The next time Sir George came Dan happened to be in, to Beth's relief.
She had brought her writing down that day, and was working at it on
the dining-room table, not expecting Dan till much later. He was in a
genial mood, for a wonder.

"What on earth are you scribbling about there?" he asked.

"Just something I was thinking about," Beth answered evasively.

"Going in for authorship, eh?"

"Why not?" said Beth.

Dan laughed. "You are not at all ambitious," he remarked; then added
patronisingly, "A little of that kind of thing will do you no harm, of
course; but, my dear child, your head wouldn't contain a book, and if
you were just a little cleverer you would know that yourself."

Beth bit the end of her pencil and looked at him dispassionately, and
it was at this moment that Sir George Galbraith was announced.

Dan received him with effusion as usual; and also, as usual, Sir
George responded with all conventional politeness, but the greeting
over, he turned his attention to Beth. He had brought her a packet of
books.

"This looks like work in earnest," he said, glancing at the table. "I
see you have a good deal of something done. Is it nearly finished?"

"All but," Beth rejoined.

"What are you going to do with it?"

Beth looked at him, and then at her manuscript vag