tiful; he thought it ugly. It worried him.
What,--his sister? Other men's sisters, yes; but his! He forgot that
he himself had been born. He could scarcely bear to look at Clara. Her
face was thin, and changed in colour; her eyes were unnaturally lustrous
and large, bold and fatigued; she looked ill, really ill; and she was
incredibly unornamental. And this was she whom he could remember as a
graceful child! And it was all perfectly correct and even laudable! So
much so that young Clara undoubtedly looked down, now, as from a
superior height, upon both himself and Maggie!

"Where's father?" she asked. "Just shut my sunshade."

"Oh! Somewhere about. I expect he'll be along in a minute. Albert
coming?" He followed her into the shop.

"Albert!" she protested, shocked. "Albert can't possibly come till one
o'clock. Didn't you know he's one of the principal stewards in Saint
Luke's Square? He says we aren't to wait dinner for him if he isn't
prompt."

"Oh!" Edwin replied, and put the sunshade on the counter.

Clara sat down heavily on a chair, and began to fan herself with a
handkerchief. In spite of the heat of exercise her face was of a pallid
yellow.

"I suppose you're going to stay here all morning?" Edwin inquired.

"Well," said Clara, "you don't see me walking up and down the streets
all morning, do you? Albert said I was to be sure and go upstairs at
once and not move. He said there'd be plenty to see for a long time yet
from the sitting-room window, and then afterwards I could lie down."

Albert said! Albert said! Clara's intonation of this frequent phrase
always jarred on Edwin. It implied that Albert was the supreme fount of
wisdom and authority in Bursley. Whereas to Edwin, Albert was in fact a
mere tedious, self-important manufacturer in a small way, with whom he
had no ideas in common. "A decent fellow at bottom," the fastidious
Edwin was bound to admit to himself by reason of slight glimpses which
he had had of Albert's uncouth good-nature; but pietistic, overbearing,
and without humour.

"Where's Maggie?" Clara demanded.

"I think she's putting her things on," said Edwin.

"But didn't she understand I was coming early?" Clara's voice was
querulous, and she frowned.

"I don't know," said Edwin.

He felt that if they remained together for hours, he and Clara would
never rise above this plane of conversation--personal, factual,
perfectly devoid of wide interest. They wo