ed infinite charm, that she might
revenge the little lady in white and make the man suffer as he deserved.
At one moment she was ashamed of the wish, and then again it returned,
and she smiled as she thought of it.

She was vaguely aware, too, that the man attracted her in a way which
did not interfere with her resentment against him. She would certainly
not have admitted that he was interesting to her on account of Lady
Fan--but there was in her a feminine willingness to play with the fire
at which another woman had burned her wings. Almost all women feel that,
until they have once felt too much themselves. The more innocent and
inexperienced they are, the more sure they are, as a rule, of their own
perfect safety, and the more ready to run any risk.

Neither of the women answered the young man's rather frivolous assertion
for some moments. Then Mrs. Bowring looked at him kindly, but with a
far-away expression, as though she were thinking of some one else.

"You are young," she said gently.

"It's true that I'm not very old," he answered. "I was five-and-twenty
on my last birthday."

"Five-and-twenty," repeated Mrs. Bowring very slowly, and looking at the
distance, with the air of a person who is making a mental calculation.

"Are you surprised?" asked the young man, watching her.

She started a little.

"Surprised? Oh dear no! Why should I be?"

And again she looked at him earnestly, until, realising what she was
doing, she suddenly shut her eyes, shook herself almost imperceptibly,
and took out some work which she had brought out with her.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "I thought you might fancy I was a good deal older
or younger. But I'm always told that I look just my age."

"I think you do," answered Mrs. Bowring, without looking up.

Clare glanced at his face again. It was natural, under the
circumstances, though she knew his features by heart already. She met
his eyes, and for a moment she could not look away from them. It was as
though they fixed her against her will, after she had once met them.
There was nothing extraordinary about them, except that they were very
bright and clear. With an effort she turned away, and the faint colour
rose in her face.

"I am nineteen," she said quietly, as though she were answering a
question.

"Indeed?" exclaimed Brook, not thinking of anything else to say.

Mrs. Bowring looked at her daughter in considerable surprise. Then Clare
blushed painfully, realising that sh