rative, and there was no
attempt to treat him as one of themselves.

Mr. Walter Harcourt was a barrister, and was rapidly rising in his
profession. He was considerably younger than his brother, and had
recently married a wealthy young widow. He was a clever talker, and his
stock of legal anecdotes kept them all well amused. He and Audrey were
old friends, and at one time Geraldine and her husband had privately
hoped that their acquaintance might ripen into a tenderer feeling.

As soon as the ladies reached the drawing-room, Mrs. Walter Harcourt,
who was a pretty, vivacious little woman, observed confidentially to
Geraldine:

'My dear, I must congratulate you. That future brother-in-law of yours
is one of the handsomest men I have ever seen. I always thought Walter a
good-looking fellow, and I daresay you thought much the same of
Percival; but both our husbands looked very ordinary people beside him.
In fact, Walter was quite clumsy.'

'Nonsense, Maggie!' returned Geraldine, glancing behind her to see if
Audrey were within earshot. 'How can you make such absurd comparisons?
Of course Mr. Blake is good-looking; but, for my own part, I always
distrust handsome men.'

'They are generally such fools, you see. I hate talking to a man who is
too self-engrossed to pay me attention. But Mr. Blake is thoroughly
nice. I must go to Audrey and tell her how much I admire her _fiance_.'

'Thank goodness, that is over!' exclaimed Cyril fervently, as Audrey
joined him in the porch. 'I have not had a word with you yet.'

Audrey smiled as she gathered up her long dress and stepped out into the
dark shrubberies.

'It was very pleasant,' she observed tranquilly. 'The Walter Harcourts
are clever, amusing people. You got on capitally with both of them; and,
Cyril, I am sure Gage was as nice as possible.'

'Oh yes!' he returned quickly; 'and I admire her excessively; but, all
the same, I shall never feel at my ease with her.' And, as Audrey
uttered a protest at this, he continued seriously: 'Of course, I know
what Mrs. Harcourt thinks of my presumption; her manner told me that at
once. "You are not one of us"--that is what her tone said to me; and yet
she was quite kind and civil. Oh, Audrey'--interrupting himself, and
speaking almost passionately--'if I were only more worthy of you! But
have patience with me, and your people shall respect me yet.'

'Dear Cyril, please do not talk so!' and Audrey stole closer to him in
the October