the end of the
season he said he had to go back to England and see his grandfather--his
father was dead--and left without saying anything definite. He told me
though, that he was coming back. I fully expect he will, though Mr. Ryan
doesn't seem to think so. Genevieve felt rather put out about it for a
time. She thought he hadn't been upright to see her so constantly and
not say anything definite. But she doesn't understand the subserviency
of Englishmen to their elders. You know, we have none of that in this
country. If my son Eddie wanted to marry a typewriter, Mr. Ryan could
never prevent it. I fully expect to see Mr. Courtney again. I'd like you
to meet him, Mr. Faraday. I think you'd agree very well. He's just such
a quiet, reserved young man as you."

When, after this interview, Faraday descended the broad steps between
the sleeping lions, he did not feel so good-tempered as he had done
after his first visit. He recalled to mind having heard that Mrs. Ryan,
before her marriage, had been a schoolteacher, and he said to himself
that if she had no more sense then than she had now, her pupils must
have received a fearful and wonderful education.

At Madame Delmonti's _conversazione_, given a few evenings later,
Faraday again saw Miss. Ryan. On the first of these occasions this
independent young lady was dressed simply in a high-necked gown and a
hat. This evening with her habitual disregard of custom and convention,
some whim had caused her to array herself in full gala attire, and,
habited in a gorgeous costume of white silk and yellow velvet, with a
glimmer of diamonds round the low neck, she was startling in her large
magnificence.

Jack Faraday approached her somewhat awe-stricken, but her gravely
boyish manner immediately put him at his ease. Talking with her over
commonplaces, he wondered what she would say if she knew of her mother's
conversation with him. As if in answer to the unspoken thought, she
suddenly said fixing him with intent eyes:

"Mommer said she told you of Mr. Courtney. Do you think he'll come
back?"

Faraday, his breath taken away by the suddenness of the attack, felt the
blood run to his hair, and stammered a reply.

"Well, you know," she said, leaning toward him confidentially, "I
_don't_. Mommer is possessed with the idea that he will. But neither
popper nor I think so. I got sort of annoyed with the way he
acted--hanging about for a whole winter, and then running away to see
his gra