gham also walked rapidly home in a state of
most irrational petulance, his hands thrust with energy into the pockets
of his overcoat.

'No, my successful aristocrat, you shall not have everything your own
way so easily with me or with _her_! You may break me, but you shall not
play upon me. And as for her, I will see it out--I will see it out!'

And he stiffened himself as he walked, feeling life electric all about
him, and a strange new force tingling in every vein.

Meanwhile, however, Mr. Flaxman was certainly having a good deal of his
own way. Since the moment when his aunt, Lady Charlotte, had introduced
him to Miss Leyburn--watching him the while with a half-smile which soon
broadened into one of sly triumph--Hugh Flaxman had persuaded himself
that country houses are intolerable even in the shooting season, and
that London is the only place of residence during the winter for the man
who aspires to govern his life on principles of reason. Through his
influence and that of his aunt, Rose and Agnes--Mrs. Leyburn never went
out--were being carried into all the high life that London can supply in
November and January. Wealthy, high-born, and popular, he was gradually
devoting his advantages in the freest way to Rose's service. He was an
excellent musical amateur, and he was always proud to play with her; he
had a fine country house, and the little rooms on Campden Hill were
almost always filled with flowers from his gardens; he had a famous
musical library, and its treasures were lavished on the girl violinist;
he had a singularly wide circle of friends, and with his whimsical
energy he was soon inclined to make kindness to the two sisters the one
test of a friend's goodwill.

He was clearly touched by Rose; and what was to prevent his making an
impression on her? To her sex he had always been singularly attractive.
Like his sister, he had all sorts of bright impulses and audacities
flashing and darting about him. He had a certain _hauteur_ with men, and
could play the aristocrat when he pleased, for all his philosophical
radicalism. But with women he was the most delightful mixture of
deference and high spirits. He loved the grace of them, the daintiness
of their dress, the softness of their voices. He would have done
anything to please them, anything to save them pain. At twenty-five,
when he was still 'Citizen Flaxman' to his college friends, and in the
first fervours of a poetic defiance of prejudice and convent