shionable ladies, perhaps?" she said simply.

He nodded.

"They belong to the Juggernaut here which is called society. They would
probably try to draw you a little way into its meshes. I think, yes, I
am sure," he added, looking at her, "that you are better off outside."

"And I am quite sure of it," she answered laughing. "I haven't the
clothes or the time or the inclination for that sort of thing. Besides,
I am going to be much too happy ever to be lonely."

"I myself," he said, "am not an impressionable person. But they tell me
that most people, especially of your age, find London a terribly lonely
place."

"I can understand that," she answered, "unless they really had something
definite to do. I have felt a little of that myself. I think London
frightens me a little. It is so different from the country, and there is
a great deal that is difficult to understand."

"For instance?"

"The great number of poor people who find it so hard to live," she
answered. "Some of the small houses round here are awful, and
Mr. Malcolm--he is the vicar of the church here, and he called
yesterday--tells me that they are nothing like so bad as in some
other parts of London. And then you take a bus, it is such a short
distance--and the shops are full of wonderful things at such fabulous
prices, and the carriages and houses are so lovely, and people seem to
be showering money right and left everywhere."

"It is the same in all large cities," he answered, "more or less.
There must always be rich and poor, when a great community are herded
together. As a rule, the extreme poor are a worthless lot."

"There must be some of them, though," she answered, "who deserve to
have a better time. Of course, I have never been outside Tredowen, where
everyone was contented and happy in their way, and it seems terrible to
me just at first. I can't bear to think that everyone hasn't at least a
chance of happiness."

"You are too young," he said, "to bother your head about these things
yet. Wait until you have gathered in a little philosophy with the years.
Then you will understand how helpless you are to alter by ever so little
the existing state of things, and it will trouble you less."

"I," she answered, "may, of course, be helpless, but what about those
people who have huge fortunes, and still do nothing?"

"Why should they?" he answered coldly. "This is a world for individual
effort. No man is strong enough to carry even a single one o