s_.
Yet she would not have hugged James for it, nor have loved him because
of it. "These are our crosses, Mr. Wesley!" Reflecting on the jaunt,
she warmed to the thought of Urquhart, who had, she felt, the knack of
making you at ease. What had he done, or how done it? Well, he seemed
to be interested in what you said. He looked at you, and waited for
it; then he answered, still looking at you. Now, so many men looked at
their toes when they answered you. James always did. Yet Mr. Urquhart
did not look too much: there were men who did that. No, not too much.

CHAPTER V

EROS STEPS IN

When she was told that Francis Lingen and Urquhart were coming on the
nineteenth, not to dine, Lucy said, "Oh, what a bore!" and seeing the
mild shock inflicted on the eyeglass by her remark, explained that it
was Lancelot's day for going to school, and that she was always
depressed at such times. The eyeglass dropped, and its master
stretched out his fine long legs, with a great display of black
speckled sock. "My dear, absurd as it may seem, they are coming to see
Me. I know your little way. You shan't be disturbed, if I may be
indulged so far as to contrive that the house hold us both. I had
thought that it would be only civil to bring them in to you for a
minute or two, when they've done. But that is for you to decide."

She was immediately penitent. "Oh, do, of course. I daresay they will
be useful. I'm very foolish to miss him so much." The eyeglass
ruefully stared at the fire.

"Urquhart consents," said James, "and Lingen will have his money.
More snuff-boxes, you'll find. But he's had to work for it. Insured
his life--and a letter from Sir Giles, which must have cost him
something." Sir Giles Lingen was the uncle of Francis, a childless
veteran. He turned his disk upon her for a moment. "You like
Urquhart?"

"Yes," Lucy said, "I do. I like him--because he likes Lancelot."

"Ah," said James, who thought her weak where the boy was concerned. He
added, "Urquhart gets on with children. He's a child himself."

"Why do you call him that?" she asked, with a tinge of offence in her
voice. James could raise the fine hairs at the back of her neck by a
mere inflection.

He accepted battle. "Because he only thinks of one thing at a time.
Because to get what he wants he'll sacrifice every mortal thing--very
often the thing itself which he's after."

But Lucy had heard all that before, and wasn't impressed. "All men are
like