How ugly the foreign women are!" exclaims Eleanor, "so short, plump,
and round. Why, even our miller's daughters could lick them into fits."

Her slang jars on him; but Eleanor is so sublimely unconscious of
offence and childishly contented with herself, that he has not the
heart to murmur.

Besides, even the touch of her small hand thrills him with the old
pleasure.

She surveys her feet admiringly.

"Did you ever see such lovely shoes? The points are like needles. It
would be wicked to walk in them. Oh, dear, where are we stopping now?"

"At the Church of St. Gudule. You must see it before we go. The
pulpit is wonderful."

Eleanor gathers up her silken skirts and steps lightly to the pavement.

She thinks this part of the honeymoon very dry, when there are cafes,
music, and shops at hand.

"Isn't the carving beautiful?" murmurs her husband, examining the
pulpit with fresh interest, from the fact that Eleanor is visiting his
favourite places.

"You see, dear," taking her arm, "it is supported on the Tree of
Knowledge and of Life. Adam and Eve are being driven out of Paradise
on one side by the Angel, while Death is gliding round with his dart."

"Ugh!" says Eleanor, shivering slightly, "what a nasty subject to
choose. If you had been Adam at Copthorne, and thought you would gain
anything by eating our apples, wouldn't you have devoured the
lot?--that is to say, if I, as Eve, had been unselfish enough to leave
any!"

She laughs at her own humour.

"It is scarcely a subject to jest upon," whispers Philip.

Eleanor's bright eyes sadden instinctively.

How has she displeased him?

"It is a marvellous piece of workmanship," he murmurs, as they move
away.

He wonders if Eleanor, who has never even heard of "Rubens," feels her
ignorance; but his thought is unconsciously answered by her careless,
yet happy, air when he imparts his wisdom. Her great, expressive eyes
seem to say: "I have no doubt it is very interesting to you, but I have
so much else to think of."

Having escaped from the bewildering pulpit out into the fresh air, her
spirits rise, while her fancy turns to the tempting pastry in the shop
windows.

She catches sight of her face and form in a mirror as they pass to one
of the small round tables, ordering coffee and cakes. Her heart
kindles with love for her own beautiful being. It is not actual
conceit, but genuine unbiassed admiration for Mother Nature's handiwork.

A young En