at
you went in for anything of the sort."

"My literary ambitions are slight enough," she answered. "Yet you can
scarcely be surprised that I find the thought of a definite career and a
certain amount of independence attractive."

He stole a sidelong glance at her. In her plainly made clothes and quiet
hat she was scarcely, perhaps, a girl likely to attract attention, yet
he was conscious of certain personal qualities, which he had realized
and understood from the first. She carried herself well, she walked
with the free graceful movements of a well-bred and healthy girl. In
her face was an air of quiet thought, the self-possession of the woman
of culture and experience. Her claim to good looks was, after all,
slight enough, yet on studying her he came to the conclusion that she
could if she chose appear to much greater advantage. Her hair, soft and
naturally wavy, was brushed too resolutely back; her smile, which was
always charming, she suffered to appear only at the rarest intervals.
She suggested a life of repression, and with his knowledge of the
Bullsom menage he was able to surmise some glimmering of the truth.

"You are right," he declared. "I think that I can understand what your
feeling must be. I am sure I wish you luck."

The touch of sympathy helped her to unbend. She glanced towards him
kindly.

"Thank you," she said. "Of course there will be difficulties. My uncle
will not like it. He is very good-natured and very hospitable, and I am
afraid his limitations will not permit him to appreciate exactly how I
feel about it. And my aunt is, of course, merely his echo."

"He will not be unreasonable," Brooks said. "I am sure of that. For a
man who is naturally of an obstinate turn of mind I think your uncle is
wonderful. He makes great efforts to free himself from all prejudices."

"Unfortunately," she remarked, "he is very down on the independent
woman. He would make housekeepers and cooks of all of us."

"Surely," he protested, with a quiet smile, "your cousins are more
ambitious than that. I am sure Selina would never wear a cooking-apron,
unless it had ribbon and frilly things all over it."

She laughed.

"After all, they have been kind to me," she said. "My mother was the
black sheep of the family, and when she died Mr. Bullsom paid my
passage home, and insisted upon my coming to live here as one of the
family. I should hate them to think that I am discontented, only the
things which satisfy the