eally," Miss Wycliffe remarked, laughing, "he could n't expect them
to swallow that. Of course Warwick is run by a clique--it always has
been--and I 'd like to see them turned out for once."

Leigh was no longer astonished at the sudden swinging of the pendulum.
"They did n't swallow it," he said grimly, "and it took Emmet's
personal appeal for fair play to make them stop their hissing and
catcalls. I thought there 'd be a riot at one time, but instead, the
men began to get up and walk out, leaving Swigart talking to their
backs. I was swept along with the crowd, and that was the last I saw
or heard."

He caught the flash of her eyes at the vivid picture he had drawn, and
could no longer conceal his bitterness. "When I saw Emmet standing
there, whipping up the mob and then holding it in check, and thought of
his scanty schooling, I felt the handicap of professorial pursuits"--

"Oh, eloquence!" she interrupted, with a quick and tactful
understanding of his hurt. "There's nothing easier in the world, if
you only have the knack. I think I may say so, as the daughter of a
bishop. Mr. Emmet moved them merely because he voiced their own
hatreds and prejudices in a clear and convincing way, not that he said
anything so very remarkable." There was undisguised scorn in her tone,
and he understood that this was the heiress speaking. "A trumpet makes
more noise of a certain kind than a telescope," she went on, "and the
noise is what the people like. Have you ever read 'Numa Roumestan'?
At the risk of preventing you from doing so, I must recommend it."

She lifted the flowers as if to throw them away, preparatory to a
return to the house, but he defeated her intention by deftly reaching
forward and taking them from her hand.

"You must allow me to save them, Miss Wycliffe," he explained, in
answer to the quick inquiry of her sidelong glance. "Let me indulge a
romantic impulse to-night, though we have had such an interesting
conversation on other matters." He thrust the lilies of the valley
into an inside pocket of his coat, and sat looking at her with a
speculative sadness that made a light or flippant comment on her part
impossible. She said nothing, though her poise conveyed the suggestion
of intended flight. She doubtless appreciated the fact that this was
what she might have anticipated, that she could not lead a young man
who was in love with her to such a place without this result. Her
purpose in so doing