mincing fingers of Mrs. Parr. Had her random notes been
given a name, they might have been called Mrs. Parr's Tale of a Wayside
Inn.

Emmet realised that the fat was in the fire. If he were only free, he
reflected bitterly, how little he would now care what they thought or
said! He would take Lena as his wife and make a lady of her, and force
her down their throats by the power of the money he meant to win.
Position was something, but money everything. Let him once get their
husbands and sons in his debt, and every door would open wide. With
Felicity as his wife, his acceptance was assured; but in his present
mood he scorned to make his entry in such a manner. Now, if he spelled
aright the handwriting on the wall, he might remain forever on the
outside of the citadel he had thought to storm. He rose to his feet
and paid his bill with a rueful conviction that he had fought not
wisely, though so well.

The very action, the very throwing down of the money, somehow restored
his earlier exhilaration, the assurance of a man who can pay the bill.
It seemed symbolic of future accounts of whatever kind, all of which he
meant to square. The web he had woven for himself was now so complete,
his discomfiture so inevitable, that his spirits rose to meet the odds
he had arrayed against himself.

Lena, divining his change of moods, but little realising their depths
and heights, was tenderly grateful. He had stood up for her before
them all, and her wildest hope was fulfilled. As they drove from the
inn yard, she seized his left hand, which he was about to thrust into
his glove, and pressed it tremulously to her lips. In this way she
thanked him for what she thought he had done for her, for what in
reality he could never do; and at the touch of her soft lips his
accusing conscience spoke to him in no uncertain voice.

During the homeward drive she was unexpectedly easy upon him. An
innate womanly tact warned her not to speak of the incident as
committing him to her before the world. For the second time that
evening she showed the wisdom of a daughter of Eve in dealing with one
of the sons of men; but her gaiety, a new sparkle in her eyes, a new
vibration in her laugh, told him unmistakably the secret joyousness of
her heart. He had a glimpse also of what she might be under happier
circumstances; he saw how the bud which was even now so sweet could
unfold in love's sunlight; he imagined the possibility of their life