ry
Lyster was conscious of it, conscious also of a certain look that Kitty
bestowed upon the entrance of Ashe, while Cliffe was opening a battery
of mingled chaff and compliments that did not at first have much effect
upon her. But William Ashe threw himself into conversation with Lady
Edith Manley, and was presently, to all appearance, happily plunged in
gossip, his tall person wholly at ease in a deep arm-chair, while Lady
Edith bent over him with smiles. Meanwhile there was a certain desertion
of Kitty on the part of the ladies. Lady Grosville hardly spoke to her,
and the girls markedly avoided her. There was a moment when Kitty,
looking round her, suddenly shook her small shoulders, and like a colt
escaping from harness gave herself to riot. She and Cliffe amused
themselves so well and so noisily that the whole drawing-room was
presently uneasily aware of them. Lady Grosville shot glances of wrath,
rose suddenly at one moment and sat down again; her girls talked more
disjointedly than ever to the gentlemen who were civilly attending them;
while, on the other hand, Miss Lyster's flow of conversation with Louis
Harman was more softly copious than usual. At last the Dean's wife
looked at the Dean, a signal of kind distress, and the Dean advanced.

"Lady Kitty," he said, taking a seat beside the pair, "have you
forgotten you promised me some French?"

Kitty turned on him a hot and mutinous face.

"Did I? What shall I say? Some Alfred de Musset?"

"No," said the Dean, "I think not."

"Some--some"--she cudgelled her memory--"some Theophile Gautier?"

"No, certainly not!" said the Dean, hastily.

"Well, as I don't know a word of him--" laughed Kitty.

"That was mischievous," said the Dean, raising a finger. "Let me suggest
Lamartine."

Kitty shook her head obstinately. "I never learned one line."

"Then some of the old fellows," said the Dean, persuasively. "I long to
hear you in Corneille or Racine. That we should <i>all</i> enjoy."

And suddenly his wrinkled hand fell kindly on the girl's small, chilly
ringers and patted them. Their eyes met, Kitty's wild and challenging,
the Dean's full of that ethereal benevolence which blended so agreeably
with his character as courtier and man of the world. There was a bright
sweetness in them which seemed to say: "Poor child! I understand. But be
a <i>little</i> good--as well as clever--and all will be well."

Suddenly Kitty's look wavered and fell. All the harshness di