nations, high ecclesiastics, a cardinal or two, the heads of the great
artistic or archæological schools, Americans, generals, senators,
deputies--with just a sprinkling of young men. A girl of this girl's
age and rank would have many opportunities, of course, of meeting young
men, in the free and fascinating life of the Roman spring, but primarily
her business in her mother's salon would have been to help her mother,
to make herself agreeable to the older men, and to gather her
education--in art, literature, and politics--as a coming woman of the
world from their talk. The Master could see her smiling on a monsignore,
carrying tea to a cardinal, or listening to the Garibaldian tales of
some old veteran of the Risorgimento.

"It is an education--of its own kind," he thought. "Is it worth more or
less than other kinds?"

And he looked round paternally on some of the young girl students then
just penetrating Oxford; fresh, pleasant faces--little positive
beauty--and on many the stamp, already prematurely visible, of the
anxieties of life for those who must earn a livelihood. Not much taste
in dress, which was often clumsy and unbecoming; hair, either untidy, or
treated as an enemy, scraped back, held in, the sole object being to
take as little time over it as possible; and, in general, the note upon
them all of an educated and thrifty middle-class. His feelings, his
sympathies, were all with them. But the old gallant in him was stirred
by the tall figure in white satin, winding its graceful way through the
room and conquering as it went.

"Ah--now that fellow, Herbert Pryce, has got hold of her, of course! If
ever there was a climber!--But what does Miss Hooper say?"