her
father. After all, was there any other way in which she could really
have developed? Only love makes fruitful the soul. The sense of form
that both had in such high degree prevented much demonstration; but to be
with him, do things for him, to admire, and credit him with perfection;
and, since she could not exactly wear the same clothes or speak in the
same clipped, quiet, decisive voice, to dislike the clothes and voices of
other men--all this was precious to her beyond everything. If she
inherited from him that fastidious sense of form, she also inherited his
capacity for putting all her eggs in one basket. And since her company
alone gave him real happiness, the current of love flowed over her heart
all the time. Though she never realized it, abundant love FOR somebody
was as necessary to her as water running up the stems of flowers,
abundant love FROM somebody as needful as sunshine on their petals. And
Winton's somewhat frequent little runs to town, to Newmarket, or where
not, were always marked in her by a fall of the barometer, which
recovered as his return grew near.

One part of her education, at all events, was not neglected--cultivation
of an habitual sympathy with her poorer neighbours. Without concerning
himself in the least with problems of sociology, Winton had by nature an
open hand and heart for cottagers, and abominated interference with their
lives. And so it came about that Gyp, who, by nature also never set foot
anywhere without invitation, was always hearing the words: "Step in, Miss
Gyp"; "Step in, and sit down, lovey," and a good many words besides from
even the boldest and baddest characters. There is nothing like a soft
and pretty face and sympathetic listening for seducing the hearts of "the
people."

So passed the eleven years till she was nineteen and Winton forty-six.
Then, under the wing of her little governess, she went to the hunt-ball.
She had revolted against appearing a "fluffy miss," wanting to be
considered at once full-fledged; so that her dress, perfect in fit, was
not white but palest maize-colour, as if she had already been to dances.
She had all Winton's dandyism, and just so much more as was appropriate
to her sex. With her dark hair, wonderfully fluffed and coiled, waving
across her forehead, her neck bare for the first time, her eyes really
"flying," and a demeanour perfectly cool--as though she knew that light
and movement, covetous looks, soft speeches, and