the sensation of spiritual comfort and complacency which
possessed him as he sat between Leonora and Ethel at Leonora's
splendidly laden table. He fought doggedly against this sensation. He
tried to assume the attitude of a philosopher observing humanity, of a
spider watching flies; he tried to be critical, cold, aloof. He listened
as one set apart, and answered in monosyllables. But despite his own
volition the monosyllables were accompanied by a smile that destroyed
the effect of their curtness. The intimate charm of the domesticity
subdued his logical antipathies. He knew that he was making a good
impression among these women, that for them there was something romantic
and exciting about his history and personality. And he liked them all.
He liked even Rose, so pale, strange, and contentious. In regard to
Milly, whom he had begun by despising, he silently admitted that a girl
so vivacious, supple, sparkling, and pretty, had the right to be as
pertly foolish as she chose. He took a direct fancy to Ethel. And he
decided once for ever that Leonora was a magnificent creature.

In the play of conversation on domestic trifles, the most ordinary
phrases seemed to him to be charged with a peculiar fascination. The
little discussions about Milly's attempts at housekeeping, about the
austere exertions of Rose, Ethel's first day at the office, Bran's new
biscuits, the end of the lawn-tennis season, the propriety of hockey for
girls, were so mysteriously pleasant to his ears that he felt it a sort
of privilege to have been admitted to them. And yet he clearly perceived
the shortcomings of each person in this little world of which the
totality was so delightful. He knew that Ethel was languidly futile,
Rose cantankerous, Milly inane, Stanway himself crafty and meretricious,
and Leonora often supine when she should not be. He dwelt specially on
the more odious aspects of Stanway's character, and swore that, had
Stanway forty womenfolk instead of four, he, Arthur Twemlow, should
still do his obvious duty of finishing what he had begun. In chatting
with his host after tea, he marked his own attitude with much care, and
though Stanway pretended not to observe it, he knew that Stanway
observed it well enough.

The three girls disappeared and returned in street attire. Rose was
going to the science classes at the Wedgwood Institution, Ethel and
Millicent to the rehearsal of the Amateur Operatic Society. Again, in
this distribution of