Gainsborough, Burne-Jones. Some people said she was like a Sargent,
others called her a post-impressionist type; there was no end to the
old and new masters of whom she seemed to remind people; and she
certainly had the rather insidious charm of somehow recalling the past
while suggesting something undiscovered in the future. There was a good
deal that was enigmatic about her. It was natural, not assumed as a
pose of mysteriousness. She was not all on the surface: not obvious.
One wondered. Was she capable of any depth of feeling? Was she always
just sweet and tactful and clever, or could there be another side to
her character? Had she (for instance) a temperament? This question was
considered one of interest,--so Edith had a great many admirers. Some
were new and fickle, others were old and faithful. She had never yet
shown more than a conversational interest in any of them, but always
seemed to be laughing with a soft mockery at her own success.

Edith was not a vain woman, not even much interested in dress, though
she had a quick eye and a sure impressionistic gift for it. She was
always an immense favourite with women, who felt subconsciously
grateful to her for her wonderful forbearance. To have the power and
not to use it! To be so pretty, yet never _to take_ _anyone away_!--not
even coldly display her conquests. But this liking she did not, as a
rule, return in any decided fashion. She had dreadfully little to say
to the average woman, except to a few intimate friends, and frankly
preferred the society of the average man, although she had not as yet
developed a taste for coquetry, for which she had, however, many
natural gifts. She was much taken up by Bruce, by Archie and Dilly, and
was fond of losing herself in ideas and in books, and in various
artistic movements and fads in which her interest was cultivated and
perhaps inspired by Vincy. Vincy was her greatest friend and confidant.
He was really a great safety-valve, and she told him nearly every