ich forms the reservoir of conversation for society above the sphere
of turf and west-endism. Thus, for instance, though she could not
undertake the volumes of Herbert Spencer, she was intelligently
acquainted with the tenor of their contents; and though she had never
opened one of Darwin's books, her knowledge of his main theories and
illustrations was respectable. She was becoming a typical woman of the
new time, the woman who has developed concurrently with journalistic
enterprise.

Not many days after that conversation with Edith Carter, she had
occasion to visit Mudie's, for the new number of some periodical which
contained an appetising title. As it was a sunny and warm day she walked
to New Oxford Street from the nearest Metropolitan station. Whilst
waiting at the library counter, she heard a familiar voice in her
proximity; it was that of Jasper Milvain, who stood talking with a
middle-aged lady. As Amy turned to look at him his eye met hers; clearly
he had been aware of her. The review she desired was handed to her; she
moved aside, and turned over the pages. Then Milvain walked up.

He was armed cap-a-pie in the fashions of suave society; no Bohemianism
of garb or person, for Jasper knew he could not afford that kind of
economy. On her part, Amy was much better dressed than usual, a costume
suited to her position of bereaved heiress.

'What a time since we met!' said Jasper, taking her delicately gloved
hand and looking into her face with his most effective smile.

'And why?' asked Amy.

'Indeed, I hardly know. I hope Mrs Yule is well?'

'Quite, thank you.'

It seemed as if he would draw back to let her pass, and so make an end
of the colloquy. But Amy, though she moved forward, added a remark:

'I don't see your name in any of this month's magazines.'

'I have nothing signed this month. A short review in The Current, that's
all.'

'But I suppose you write as much as ever?'

'Yes; but chiefly in weekly papers just now. You don't see the
Will-o'-the-Wisp?'

'Oh yes. And I think I can generally recognise your hand.'

They issued from the library.

'Which way are you going?' Jasper inquired, with something more of the
old freedom.

'I walked from Gower Street station, and I think, as it's so fine, I
shall walk back again.'

He accompanied her. They turned up Museum Street, and Amy, after a short
silence, made inquiry concerning his sisters.

'I am sorry I saw them only once, but no doubt you