g so held in
durance."

Hadria coloured.

"That experience and its effect upon my own nature, which has lasted to
this day," added Theobald, "served to increase my interest in the
fascinating study of character in its relation to environment."

"Ah!" exclaimed Hadria, "then _you_ don't believe in the independent
power of the human will?"

"Certainly not. To talk of character overcoming circumstance is to talk
of an effect without a cause. Yet this phrase is a mere commonplace in
our speech. A man no more overcomes his circumstance than oxygen
overcomes nitrogen when it combines with it to form the air we breathe.
If the nitrogen is present, the combination takes place; but if there is
no nitrogen to be had, all the oxygen in the world will not produce our
blessed atmosphere!"

Joseph Fleming caused a sort of anti-climax by mentioning simply that he
didn't know that any nitrogen was required in the atmosphere. One always
heard about the oxygen.

Professor Theobald remarked, with a chuckle, that this was one of the
uses of polite conversation; one picked up information by the wayside.
Joseph agreed that it was wonderfully instructive, if the speakers were
intelligent.

"That helps," said the Professor, tapping Joseph familiarly on the
shoulder.

"When shall we have our next meeting?" enquired Lady Engleton, when the
moment came for parting.

"The sooner the better," said Valeria. "English skies have Puritan
moods, and we may as well profit by their present jocund temper. I never
saw a bluer sky in all Italy."

"I certainly shall not be absent from the next meeting," announced
Theobald, with a glance at Hadria.

"Nor I," said Lady Engleton. "Such opportunities come none too often."

"I," Hadria observed, "shall be cook-hunting."

Professor Theobald's jaw shut with a snap, and he turned and left the
group almost rudely.

CHAPTER XXV.

Hadria thought that Professor Theobald had not spoken at random, when he
said that the sweetest tribute a woman can receive is that paid to her
personal charm. This unwilling admission was dragged out of her by the
sight of Valeria Du Prel, as the central figure of an admiring group, in
the large drawing-room at Craddock Place.

She was looking handsome and animated, her white hair drawn proudly off
her brow, and placed as if with intention beside the silken curtains,
whose tint of misty pale green was so becoming to her beauty.

Valeria was holding her little c