t was decidedly more amusing to waken that still
sweet face to animation than to engage in a war of wit with Ethel.

Lesley thought of Oliver very little. Once or twice he had startled her
by an assumption of intimacy, a softening of his voice, and a look of
tenderness in his eyes, which made her shrink into herself with an
instinctive emotion of dislike. But she had then proceeded to scold
herself for foolish shyness and prudery--the prudery of a French-school
girl, who was not accustomed to the ways of men. She had begun to feel
herself very ignorant of the world since she came to her father's house.
It would never do to offend one of her father's friends by seeming
afraid of him. So she tried to smile and looked pleased when Oliver drew
near, and she was all the more gracious to him because she had already
quarrelled with Maurice Kenyon, who was even more her father's friend
than Oliver himself. But what could she do? Mr. Kenyon had insulted
her--the hot blood rose to her cheeks as she thought of some of the
things that he had said. Insulted her by assuming that she could not
appreciate her father because she was too careless, too frivolous, too
foolish to do so. That she was ignorant, Lesley was ready to
acknowledge; but not that she was incapable of learning.

Oliver had no difficulty in persuading his sister to make one of the
party on Sunday afternoon. Indeed, Mrs. Romaine made the expedition
easier by inviting Lesley to lunch with her beforehand.

"I asked Maurice and Ethel Kenyon, too," she said to Lesley, "but they
would not come. Mr. Kenyon had his patients to attend to; and Ethel
would not leave him to lunch alone."

Lesley did not answer, but privately reflected that if the Kenyons had
accepted the invitation she would have lunched at home.

She went to church by herself on Sunday morning, for Mr. Brooke was not
up, and Doctor Sophy frequented some assembly of eclectic souls, of
which Lesley had never heard before. So she went demurely to that
ugliest of all Protestant temples, St. Pancras' Church, and was not very
much surprised when she perceived that Oliver Trent was in the seat
behind her, and that he sat so that he could see her face.

"I did not know that you went to St. Pancras'," she said, innocently, as
they stood on the steps together outside when the service was over.

"Nor do I," he answered her. "It is the most hideous church I ever saw.
But there was an attraction this morning."

Lesle