r with pretty dresses and the
admiration of men. As for Yvonne, till she married Jack Bendish
she had never been out of debt in her life. "No, it's the most
natural thing on earth," said Laura. "How I wish--!"

"No, no," said Isabel hastily. "It's very, very sweet of you,
but even Jimmy wouldn't like it: and as for Val I don't know what
he'd say! Poor old Val, he wants some new evening clothes
himself, and it's worse for him than for me because men do so
hate to look shabby and out at elbows. He's worn that suit for
ten years. My one consolation is that Captain Hyde couldn't wear
a suit he wore ten years ago. It would burst."

"Isabel! really! you ridiculous child, why have you such a
spite against poor Lawrence? Any one would think he was a
perfect Daniel Lambert! Do you know he's a pukka sportsman and
has shot all over the world? Lions and tigers, and rhinoceros,
and grizzly bears, and all sorts of ferocious animals! He's
promised me a black panther skin for my parlour and he's
persuaded Bernard to call in Dr. Verney for his neuritis, so I
won't hear another word against him!"

"Has he? H'm. . . . No, I haven't any prejudice against him: in
fact I like him," said Isabel, smiling to herself. "But he
reminds me of Tom Wallis at the Prince of Wales's Feathers. Do
you remember Tom? 'Poor Tom,' Mrs. Wallis always says, 'he went
from bad to worse. First it was a drop too much of an evening:
and then he began getting drunk mornings: and then he 'listed for
a soldier!' Not that Captain Hyde would get drunk, but he has the
same excitable temperament. . . . Laura!"

"What is it?" said Mrs. Clowes, framing the young face between
her hands as Isabel rose up kneeling before her. In the
quivering apple-tree shadow Isabel's eyes were very dark, and
penetrating and reflective too, as if she had just undergone one
of those transitions from childhood to womanhood which are the
mark and the charm of her variable age. Laura was puzzled by her
judgment of Lawrence Hyde, so keen, yet so wide of the truth as
Laura saw it: "excitable" was the last thing that Laura would
have called him, and she couldn't see any likeness to Tom Wallis.
But one can't argue over a man's character with a child. "Why so
serious?"

"This evening, at dinner, weren't there some queer
undercurrents?"

"Undercurrents!" Laura drew her hands away. She looked startled
and nervous. "What sort of undercurrents?"

"When they were chaffing