en of
business; and as to social questions, I have only one article of belief,
which is, that the sole refiner of human nature is fine art."

"Whereas I believe that the sole refiner of art is human nature. Art
rises when men rise, and grovels when men grovel. What is your opinion?"

"I agree with you in many ways," replied Sir Charles nervously; for a
lack of interest in his fellow-creatures, and an excess of interest in
himself, had prevented him from obtaining that power of dealing with
social questions which, he felt, a baronet ought to possess, and he
was consequently afraid to differ from anyone who alluded to them with
confidence. "If you take an interest in art, I believe I can show you a
few things worth seeing."

"Thank you. In return I will some day show you a remarkable collection
of photographs I possess; many of them taken by me. I venture to think
they will teach you something."

"No doubt," said Sir Charles. "Shall we return to the gallery? I have a
few treasures there that photography is not likely to surpass for some
time yet."

"Let's go through the conservatory," said Jane. "Don't you like flowers,
Mr. Smi--I never can remember your proper name."

"Extremely," said Trefusis.

They rose and went out into a long hothouse. Here Lady Brandon, finding
Erskine at her side, and Sir Charles before her with Gertrude,
looked round for Trefusis, with whom she intended to enjoy a trifling
flirtation under cover of showing him the flowers. He was out of sight;
but she heard his footsteps in the passage on the opposite side of the
greenhouse. Agatha was also invisible. Jane, not daring to rearrange
their procession lest her design should become obvious, had to walk on
with Erskine.

Agatha had turned unintentionally into the opposite alley to that which
the others had chosen. When she saw what she had done, and found herself
virtually alone with Trefusis, who had followed her, she blamed him for
it, and was about to retrace her steps when he said coolly:

"Were you shocked when you heard of Henrietta's sudden death?"

Agatha struggled with herself for a moment, and then said in a
suppressed voice: "How dare you speak to me?"

"Why not?" said he, astonished.

"I am not going to enter into a discussion with you. You know what I
mean very well."

"You mean that you are offended with me; that is plain enough. But when
I part with a young lady on good terms, and after a lapse of years,
during which we