of an
introduction to the Doctor came to Lily. She approached him, and his
honest face induced her to skirmish lightly with him; but not a word
did he utter of the whys and wherefores of his being with Osgood. He
would not, at any rate, extend his self-elected office of chorus so
far as to include her. He felt a dislike toward her. She was too thin,
he thought; there was an air of wear and tear about her which was not
pleasant. He felt, too, that she knew more than Osgood; and a woman,
in his estimation, should never be the intellectual superior of a man
she might make choice of. But the Doctor was an Englishman; his ideas
of women had been developed by the cynical Thackeray and the material
Dickens. There was a line between the two classes of women he only
believed to exist--the bad capable woman and the good foolish
woman--which could never be crossed by one or the other. The elements
which go to make up a man, of good and evil mixed, never enter into
the composition of the women of Englishmen of the present time. It is
possible that Lily discovered Dr. Black's impression: she discovered
it so nearly that she was certain Osgood had talked of her with him.
Why had he? she wondered.

In a few minutes the party fell apart as naturally as it had come
together. Lily went on her walk with Barclay; after which she retired
to dress for luncheon, but instead of appearing thereat kept her room
till evening.

Osgood avoided every body; he was tormented with an idea that Lily had
suffered. There was no reason for his thinking so; he derived the idea
from reasoning with himself--reasoning which meeting with her had put
in play. In the evening he went to the drawing-room, and waited till
he saw her come in. Barclay, who was waiting too, darted toward her,
but Osgood reached her first. When Barclay saw Lily take the arm which
Osgood offered her, he turned away; but changing his mind again went
up to them.

"Osgood," he said, in a frank voice, "you have not congratulated me on
my engagement to your friend Lily."

Talk of heroes and martyrs; was not Lily both, at that moment,
standing between these two men, with her hair dressed by a barber, and
wearing a pale blue silk?

She eyed with a dainty air a little bouquet she held in her hand, of
tea-roses and geraniums, and applied it to her nose with great
deliberation. She felt an impetus from Osgood's arm. He had not
answered Barclay, but was dragging her decorously out of the
d