cranks, or silly young men, and these new women, but for Eustace--" Lady
Casterley paused again, and her fingers pinched Barbara's arm, "or for
you--there's only one sort of marriage possible. As for Eustace, I shall
speak to this good lady, and see that he doesn't get entangled further."

Absorbed in the intensity of her purpose, she did not observe a peculiar
little smile playing round Barbara's lips.

"You had better speak to Nature, too, Granny!"

Lady Casterley stopped short, and looked up in her granddaughter's face.

"Now what do you mean by that?" she said "Tell me!"

But noticing that Barbara's lips had closed tightly, she gave her arm a
hard--if unintentional-pinch, and walked on.

CHAPTER XII

Lady Casterley's rather malicious diagnosis of Audrey Noel was correct.
The unencumbered woman was up and in her garden when Barbara and her
grandmother appeared at the Wicket gate; but being near the lime-tree
at the far end she did not hear the rapid colloquy which passed between
them.

"You are going to be good, Granny?"

"As to that--it will depend."

"You promised."

"H'm!"

Lady Casterley could not possibly have provided herself with a better
introduction than Barbara, whom Mrs. Noel never met without the sheer
pleasure felt by a sympathetic woman when she sees embodied in someone
else that 'joy in life' which Fate has not permitted to herself.

She came forward with her head a little on one side, a trick of hers not
at all affected, and stood waiting.

The unembarrassed Barbara began at once:

"We've just had an encounter with a bull. This is my grandmother, Lady
Casterley."

The little old lady's demeanour, confronted with this very pretty face
and figure was a thought less autocratic and abrupt than usual. Her
shrewd eyes saw at once that she had no common adventuress to deal with.
She was woman of the world enough, too, to know that 'birth' was not
what it had been in her young days, that even money was rather rococo,
and that good looks, manners, and a knowledge of literature, art,
and music (and this woman looked like one of that sort), were often
considered socially more valuable. She was therefore both wary and
affable.

"How do you do?" she said. "I have heard of you. May we sit down for a
minute in your garden? The bull was a wretch!"

But even in speaking, she was uneasily conscious that Mrs. Noel's clear
eyes were seeing very well what she had come for. The look in them
in