on like this, just seeing her sometimes, writing to her
sometimes. Now you know, Miss Rand, what's been my secret all this time.
I've felt it's been between us and that's why I had to tell you. We'll
be twice the friends that we were now that I've told you. And I must, I
_must_ have someone to talk to about her sometimes. It's been killing
me, getting along without it."

Now that he had begun words poured from him. He did not know that it was
raining; he saw only Rachel with her white face and dark hair.

Lizzie pulled her wrap about her; she was very cold and the rain was
coming fast.

He was suddenly conscious of this.

"I say, what a brute I am! It's pouring!" He called a passing hansom and
they climbed into it.

He was aware that she had said nothing.

"There!" he said, "you wish I hadn't told you. I know you do. You're
shocked."

"No," she said, struggling to prevent her teeth from chattering.

He felt her shiver. "Why! you're shaking with cold! We oughtn't to have
walked, but I did so want to speak to you about this. We must talk about
it another time. But, I say, you aren't really horrified about it, are
you?"

"No," she said again. "Another time though--There must be thunder. This
storm makes my head ache."

She could say no more. The rest of the drive was in silence. In the hall
she thanked him for her delightful evening.

She looked through the drawing-room door and wished her mother and
sister good night, but did not stay to discuss incidents.

"Well," said Mrs. Rand, who had a fine list of questions ready about the
play--"There's selfishness!"

Lizzie locked her door, undressed and lay down.

Like a sword jagging through and through her brain and piercing from
there down to her heart stabbed the refrain:

"Oh! I hate her! I hate her! I hate her!"

So, wide-eyed, she lay throughout the night.

CHAPTER VI

ALL THE BEAMINSTERS

"We must expect change," returned Mrs. Chick.

"Of weather?" asked Miss Tox in her simplicity.

"Of everything," returned Mrs. Chick. "Of course we must. It's
a world of change. Anyone would surprise me very much,
Lucretia, and would greatly alter my opinion of their
understanding, if they attempted to contradict or evade what is
so perfectly evident. Change!" exclaimed Mrs. Chick, with
severe philosophy--"Why, my gracious me, what is there that
does _not_ change! Even the silkworm, who I am sure might be