, by
suggestion of rough usage endured. Her absolute absence of affectation,
her unself-consciousness, her indifference to adventitious prettinesses
of toilet, her transparent sincerity, were very entirely approved by
Ludovic Quayle.

"Yes, that see-saw of hope and fear must be an awful ordeal, feeling as
she does," Miss St. Quentin said presently. "And yet, even so, I am
uncertain. I can't help wondering which really is best!"

"Again a thousand pardons," the young man put in, "but I venture to
remind you that I was not cradled in the forecourt of the temple of the
Pythian Apollo, but only in the nursery of a conspicuously Philistine,
English country-house."

For the first time during their conversation Honoria looked full at
him. Her glance was very friendly, yet it remained meditative, even a
trifle sad.

"Oh! I know, I'm fearfully inconsequent," she said. "But my head is
simply rattled to pieces by that beastly _waggon-lit_. I had gone back
to what I was thinking about before you joined me, and to what we were
saying just now about Cousin Katherine."

"Yes--yes, exactly," Ludovic put in tentatively. She was going to give
herself away--he was sure of it. And such giving away might make for
opportunity. In spirit, the young man proceeded to take his shoes from
off his feet. The ground on which he stood might prove to be holy.
Moreover Miss St. Quentin's direct acts of self-revelation were few and
far between. He was horribly afraid those same shoes of his might
creak, so to speak, thereby startling her into watchfulness, making her
draw back. But Honoria did not draw back. She was too much absorbed by
her own thought. She continued to contemplate the glory of the flaming
west, her expression touched by a grave and noble enthusiasm.

"I suppose one can't help worrying a little at times--it's laid hold of
me very much during the last month or two--as to what is really the
finest way to take life. One wants to arrive at that fairly early; not
by a process of involuntary elimination, on the burnt-child-fears-the-fire
sort of principle, when the show's more than half over, as so many
people do. One wants to get hold of the stick by the right end now,
while one's still comparatively young, and then work straight along. I
want my reason to be the backbone of my action, don't you know, instead
of merely the push of society and friendship, and superficial odds and
ends of so-called obligation to other people."

"Yes,"