wing intimacy with that family had extended his
social outlook, and in a direction correspondent with the change in his
own circumstances. He was making friends in the world with which he had
a natural affinity; that of wealthy and cultured people who seek no
prominence, who shrink from contact with the circles known as 'smart,'
who possess their souls in quiet freedom. It is a small class,
especially distinguished by the charm of its women. Everard had not
adapted himself without difficulty to this new atmosphere; from the
first he recognized its soothing and bracing quality, but his
experiences had accustomed him to an air more rudely vigorous; it was
only after those weeks spent abroad in frequent intercourse with the
Brissendens that he came to understand the full extent of his sympathy
with the social principles these men and women represented.

In the houses where his welcome was now assured he met some three of
four women among whom it would have been difficult to assign the
precedence for grace of manner and of mind. These persons were not in
declared revolt against the order of things, religious, ethical, or
social; that is to say, they did not think it worthwhile to identify
themselves with any 'movement'; they were content with the unopposed
right of liberal criticism. They lived placidly; refraining from much
that the larger world enjoined, but never aggressive. Everard admired
them with increasing fervour. With one exception they were married, and
suitably married; that member of the charming group who kept her maiden
freedom was Agnes Brissenden, and it seemed to Barfoot that, if
preference were at all justified, Agnes should receive the palm. His
view of her had greatly changed since the early days of their
acquaintance; in fact, he perceived that till of late he had not known
her at all. His quick assumption that Agnes was at his disposal if he
chose to woo her had been mere fatuity; he misread her perfect
simplicity of demeanour, the unconstraint of her intellectual
sympathies. What might now be her personal attitude to him he felt
altogether uncertain, and the result was a genuine humility such as he
had never known. Nor was it Agnes only that subdued his masculine
self-assertiveness; her sisters in grace had scarcely less dominion
over him; and at times, as he sat conversing in one of these
drawing-rooms, he broke off to marvel at himself, to appreciate the
perfection of his own suavity, the vast adva