I say it
now anyhow, Mr. Norburn."

Norburn took up the despised hat. Looking at it now through Daisy's eyes
he could not maintain that it was a handsome hat.

"It's your own fault. You began it," said Daisy, stifling a pang of
compunction, for she really liked him very much, else why should she
mind what he wore?

"I began it?"

"Yes. By--by dragging in Mr. Derosne."

"I only mentioned him as an example of fashionable youth."

"You know you wouldn't like it if I went about in dowdy old things."

"I don't mind a bit what you wear. It's all the same to me."

"How very peculiar you are!" exclaimed Daisy, with a look of
compassionate amazement. "Most people notice what I wear. Oh, and I've
got a charming dress for the flower-show at Government House."

"You're invited, are you?" asked Norburn, with an ill-judged exhibition
of surprise.

"Of course I'm invited."

"I'm sorry to hear it."

"Why, pray, Mr. Norburn? Are you going?"

"Yes. I suppose I must."

"Not in that hat!" implored Daisy.

"Certainly," answered Norburn, though it is doubtful if he had in truth
intended to do so, but for Daisy's taunts.

A tragic silence followed. At last, Miss Medland exclaimed,

"What will Lady Eynesford think of my friends?"

"I didn't know you cared so much for what Lady Eynesford thought.
Besides, I need not present myself in that character."

"Oh, if you're going to be disagreeable!"

"For my part, I'm sorry you're going at all."

"Thank you. Is that because I shall enjoy it?"

"I don't care for that sort of society."

"I like it above everything."

Matters having thus reached a direct issue, Norburn clapped the _causa
belli_ on his head, and walked out of the room, dimly conscious that he
had done himself as much harm as he possibly could in the space of a
quarter of an hour. When he grew cool, he confessed that the momentary,
if real, pleasure of being unpleasant was somewhat dearly bought at the
cost of enmity with Daisy Medland. Indeed this unhappy young man, for
all that his whole soul was by way of being absorbed in reconstructing
society, would have thought most things a bad bargain at such a price.
But his bitterness had been too strong. It seemed as though all his
devotion, ay, and--he did not scruple to say to himself--all his real
gifts were to weigh as nothing against the cut of a coat and the "sit"
of a cravat--for to such elemental constituents his merciless and
jealous analysis reduced po