be polite at all costs. It might possibly be
true, she added, that she was getting on in girlhood when that event
took place; but if it were so, then she was virtually no less than an
old woman now, so far did the time seem removed from her present. "Do
you ever look at things philosophically instead of personally?" she
asked.

"I can't say that I do," answered Giles, his eyes lingering far ahead
upon a dark spot, which proved to be a brougham.

"I think you may, sometimes, with advantage," said she. "Look at
yourself as a pitcher drifting on the stream with other pitchers, and
consider what contrivances are most desirable for avoiding cracks in
general, and not only for saving your poor one. Shall I tell you all
about Bath or Cheltenham, or places on the Continent that I visited
last summer?"

"With all my heart."

She then described places and persons in such terms as might have been
used for that purpose by any woman to any man within the four seas, so
entirely absent from that description was everything specially
appertaining to her own existence. When she had done she said, gayly,
"Now do you tell me in return what has happened in Hintock since I have
been away."

"Anything to keep the conversation away from her and me," said Giles
within him.

It was true cultivation had so far advanced in the soil of Miss
Melbury's mind as to lead her to talk by rote of anything save of that
she knew well, and had the greatest interest in developing--that is to
say, herself.

He had not proceeded far with his somewhat bald narration when they
drew near the carriage that had been preceding them for some time.
Miss Melbury inquired if he knew whose carriage it was.

Winterborne, although he had seen it, had not taken it into account.
On examination, he said it was Mrs. Charmond's.

Grace watched the vehicle and its easy roll, and seemed to feel more
nearly akin to it than to the one she was in.

"Pooh! We can polish off the mileage as well as they, come to that,"
said Winterborne, reading her mind; and rising to emulation at what it
bespoke, he whipped on the horse. This it was which had brought the
nose of Mr. Melbury's old gray close to the back of Mrs. Charmond's
much-eclipsing vehicle.

"There's Marty South Sitting up with the coachman," said he, discerning
her by her dress.

"Ah, poor Marty! I must ask her to come to see me this very evening.
How does she happen to be riding there?"

"I don't know. I