Mary's, through all the little circle in which she was now a constant and
a favorite figure. In the light of her experience of men, so limited and
so sharply contrasted, she made a simple classification of them; they
were Cransters or Alecs; and each class acted after its kind. Plainly
Beaumaroy was not an Alec; therefore he was Cranster, and Cranster-like
actions were to be expected from him, of such special description as his
circumstances and temptations might dictate.

She poured this simple philosophy into Doctor Mary's ears, vouching
Alec's authority for its application to Beaumaroy. The theory was too
simple for Mary, whose profession had shown her at all events something
of the complexity of human nature; and she was no infallibilist; she
would bow unquestioningly to no man's authority, not even to Alec's, much
as she liked and admired him. There was even a streak of contrariness in
her; what she might have said to herself she was prone to criticize or
contradict, if it were too confidently or urgently pressed on her by
another; perhaps, too, Cynthia's claim to be the Captain's mouthpiece
stirred up in her a latent resentment; it was not to be called a
jealousy; it was rather an amused irritation at both the divinity and his
worshiper. His worshipers can sometimes make a divinity look foolish.

Her own interview with Beaumaroy at the Cottage had left her puzzled,
distrustful--and attracted. She suspected him vaguely of wanting to use
her for some purpose of his own; in spite of the swift plausibility of
his explanation, she was nearly certain that he had lied to her about the
combination knife-and-fork. Yet his account of his own position in regard
to Mr. Saffron had sounded remarkably candid, and the more so because he
made no pretensions to an exalted attitude. It had been left to her to
define the standard of sensitive honor; his had been rather that of
safety or, at the best, that of what the world would think, or even of