to conceal from him that she was giddy. Numbness and lassitude
crept upon her, and she was beginning to hope that she was only dreaming
it all when he roused her by saying,

"Take my arm."

"No, thank you."

"Do not be so senselessly obstinate. You will have to lean on the
hedge for support if you refuse my help. I am sorry I did not insist on
getting the trap."

Gertrude had not been spoken to in this tone since her childhood. "I am
perfectly well," she said sharply. "You are really very officious."

"You are not perfectly well, and you know it. However, if you make
a brave struggle, you will probably be able to walk home without my
assistance, and the effort may do you good."

"You are very rude," she said peremptorily.

"I know it," he replied calmly. "You will find three classes of men
polite to you--slaves, men who think much of their manners and nothing
of you, and your lovers. I am none of these, and therefore give you back
your ill manners with interest. Why do you resist your good angel by
suppressing those natural and sincere impulses which come to you often
enough, and sometimes bring a look into your face that might tame a
bear--a look which you hasten to extinguish as a thief darkens his
lantern at the sound of a footstep."

"Mr. Trefusis, I am not accustomed to be lectured."

"That is why I lecture you. I felt curious to see how your good
breeding, by which I think you set some store, would serve you in
entirely novel circumstances--those of a man speaking his mind to you,
for instance. What is the result of my experiment? Instead of rebuking
me with the sweetness and dignity which I could not, in spite of my past
observation, help expecting from you, you churlishly repel my offer of
the assistance you need, tell me that I am very rude, very officious,
and, in short, do what you can to make my position disagreeable and
humiliating."

She looked at him haughtily, but his expression was void of offence or
fear, and he continued, unanswered.

"I would bear all this from a working woman without remonstrance, for
she would owe me no graces of manner or morals. But you are a lady.
That means that many have starved and drudged in uncleanly discomfort
in order that you may have white and unbroken hands, fine garments, and
exquisite manners--that you may be a living fountain of those influences
that soften our natures and lives. When such a costly thing as a lady
breaks down at the first touch of a fi