lawn, while the
bottom was occupied by the pergola, now covered with massive red blooms;
an acacia tree, and an elder tree, both leafy but refusing to flower,
shaded the bottom of the garden, which was effectively cut off by a
hedge of golden privet. It was a tidy garden, but it showed no traces of
originality. Victoria had ordered it to be potted with geraniums,
carnations, pinks, marguerites; and was quite content to observe that
somebody had put in sweet peas, clematis and larkspur. Hers was not the
temperament which expresses itself in a garden; there was no sense of
peace in her idea of the beautiful. If she liked the garden to look
pretty at all, it was doubtless owing to her heredity.

Victoria picked up a couple of stones and threw them towards the end of
the garden. Snoo and Poo rushed into the privet, snuffling excitedly,
while their mistress drew down a heavy rose-laden branch from the
pergola and breathed the blossoms. Yes, she was hard, and it was
beginning to make her nervous. In the early days she had sedulously
cultivated the spirit which was making a new woman out of the quiet,
refined, rather shy girl she had been. There had been a time when she
would have shuddered at the idea of a quarrel with a cabman about an
overcharge; now, if it were possible, she felt coldly certain that she
would cheat him of his rightful fare. This process she likened to the
tempering of steel, and called a development of the mental muscles. She
rather revelled in this development in the earlier days, because it gave
her a sense of power; she benefited by it too, for she found that by
cultivating this hardness she could extort more money by stooping to
wheedle, by accepting snubs, by flattery and lies too. The consciousness
of this power redeemed the exercise of it; she often felt herself lifted
above this atmosphere of deceit by looking coldly at the deed she was
about to do, recognising its nature and doing it with her eyes open.

A realization of another kind, however, was upon Victoria that rich
August day. In a sense she was doing well. Her capital had not been
touched; in fact it had probably increased, and this in spite of town
being empty. She had not yet found the man who would make her fortune;
but she had no doubt that he would appear if she continued on her even
road, selecting without passion, judging values and possibilities. For
the moment she brushed aside the question of success; it was assured.
But, after