t of the old childish fancy of
being a boy instead of a girl, she could not lose sight of the fact that
strength and alertness are sources of feminine as well as of masculine
power.

Amongst the young friends who came from time to time during his holidays
was Leonard Everard, now a tall, handsome boy. He was one of those boys
who develop young, and who seem never to have any of that gawky stage so
noticeable in the youth of men made in a large pattern. He was always
well-poised, trim-set, alert; fleet of foot, and springy all over. In
games he was _facile princeps_, seeming to make his effort always in the
right way and without exertion, as if by an instinct of physical
masterdom. His universal success in such matters helped to give him an
easy debonair manner which was in itself winning. So physically complete
a youth has always a charm. In its very presence there is a sort of
sympathetic expression, such as comes with the sunshine.

Stephen always in Leonard's presence showed something of the common
attitude. His youth and beauty and sex all had their influence on her.
The influence of sex, as it is understood with regard to a later period
of life, did not in her case exist; Cupid's darts are barbed and winged
for more adult victims. But in her case Leonard's masculine superiority,
emphasised by the few years between their age, his sublime self-belief,
and, above all, his absolute disregard for herself or her wishes or her
feelings, put him on a level at which she had to look up to him. The
first step in the ladder of pre-eminence had been achieved when she
realised that he was not on her level; the second when she experienced
rather than thought that he had more influence on her than she had on
him. Here again was a little morsel of hero worship, which, though based
on a misconception of fact, was still of influence. In that episode of
the crypt she had always believed that it was Leonard who had carried her
out and laid her on the church floor in light and safety. He had been
strong enough and resolute enough to do this, whilst she had fainted!
Harold's generous forbearance had really worked to a false end.

It was not strange, therefore, that she found occasional companionship
with the handsome, wilful, domineering boy somewhat of luxury. She did
not see him often enough to get tired of him; to find out the weakness of
his character; to realise his deep-seated, remorseless selfishness. But
after all