was wont to speak on this subject.

'Oh, that is his modesty. And not only modesty; his views lead him to
pride himself on a poor origin. He was an engineer, and we know that
engineers are in reality professional men. Remember old Mr. Mutimer;
he was a perfect gentleman. I have no doubt the family is really a
very good one. Indeed, I am all but sure that I remember the name in
Hampshire; there was a Sir something Mutimer--I'm convinced of it.
No one really belonging to the working class ever bore himself as Mr.
Mutimer does. Haven't you noticed the shape of his hands, my dear?'

'I've only noticed that they are very large, and just what you would
expect in a man who had done much rough work.'

Mrs. Waltham laughed noisily.

'My dear child, how _can_ you be so perverse? The shape of the fingers
is perfect. Do pray notice them next time.'

'I really cannot promise, mother, to give special attention to Mr.
Mutimer's hands.'

Mrs. Waltham glanced at the girl, who had laid down a book she was
trying to read, and, with lowered eyes, seemed to be collecting herself
for further utterance.

'Why are you so prejudiced, Adela?'

'I am not prejudiced at all. I have no interest of any kind in Mr.
Mutimer.'

The words were spoken hurriedly and with a ring almost of hostility. At
the same time the girl's cheeks flushed. She felt herself hard beset. A
network was being woven about her by hands she could not deem other
than loving; it was time to exert herself that the meshes might not be
completed, and the necessity cost her a feeling of shame.

'But your brother's friend, my dear. Surely you ought not to say that
you have no interest in him at all.'

'I do say it, mother, and I wish to say it so plainly that you cannot
after this mistake me. Alfred's friends are very far from being
necessarily my friends. Not only have I no interest in Mr. Mutimer, I
even a little dislike him.'

'I had no idea of that, Adela,' said her mother, rather blankly.

'But it is the truth, and I feel I ought to have tried to make you
understand that sooner. I thought you would see that I had no pleasure
in speaking of him.'

'But how is it possible to dislike him? I confess that is very hard for
me to understand. I am sure his behaviour to you is perfect--so entirely
respectful, so gentlemanly.'

'No, mother, that is not quite the word to use. You are mistaken; Mr.
Mutimer is _not_ a perfect gentleman.'

It was said with much decision, fo