ut the great mystery of love, and Christopher
thought about the length of Elisabeth's eyelashes.

"Do you think that Alan is in love with Felicia?" the girl asked at
last.

"Appearances favour the supposition," replied Christopher.

"You once said he wasn't capable of loving any woman."

"I know I did; but that didn't in the least mean that he wasn't capable
of loving Miss Herbert."

"She is very attractive; even you like her better than you like me,"
Elisabeth remarked, looking at him through the very eyelashes about
which he was thinking. "I wonder at it, but nevertheless you do."

"One never can explain these things. At least I never can, though you
seem to possess strange gifts of divination. I remember that you once
expounded to me that either affinity or infinity was at the root of
these matters--I forget which."

"She is certainly good-looking," Elisabeth went on.

"She is; her dearest friend couldn't deny that."

"And she has sweet manners."

"Distinctly sweet. She is the sort of girl that people call restful."

"And a lovely temper."

Christopher still refused to be drawn. "So I conclude. I have never
ruffled it--nor tried to ruffle it--nor even desired to ruffle it."

"Do you like ruffling people's tempers?"

"Some people's tempers, extremely."

"What sort of people's?"

"I don't know. I never schedule people into 'sorts,' as you do. The
people I care about can not be counted by 'sorts': there is one made of
each, and then the mould is broken."

"You do like Felicia better than me, don't you?" Elisabeth asked, after
a moment's silence.

"So you say, and as you are a specialist in these matters I think it
wise to take your statements on faith without attempting to dispute
them."

"Chris, you are a goose!"

"I know that--far better than you do." And Christopher sighed.

"But I like you all the same."

"That is highly satisfactory."

"I believe I always liked you better than Alan," Elisabeth continued,
"only his way of talking about things dazzled me somehow. But after a
time I found out that he always said more than he meant, while you
always mean more than you say."

"Oh! Tremaine isn't half a bad fellow: his talk is, as you say, a little
high-flown; but he takes himself in more than he takes in other people,
and he really means well." Christopher could afford to be magnanimous
toward Alan, now that Elisabeth was the reverse.

"I remember that day at Pembruge Castle, while he wa