"Might!--but he never has and never will. Life is too short to run after
mights; we must have certainties."

She tucked the box under her arm and was about to walk on, when Gregory
Rose, with shining spurs, an ostrich feather in his hat, and a silver-
headed whip, careered past. He bowed gallantly as he went by. They waited
till the dust of the horse's hoofs had laid itself.

"There," said Lyndall, "goes a true woman--one born for the sphere that
some women have to fill without being born for it. How happy he would be
sewing frills into his little girl's frocks, and how pretty he would look
sitting in a parlour, with a rough man making love to him! Don't you think
so?"

"I shall not stay here when he is master," Waldo answered, not able to
connect any kind of beauty with Gregory Rose.

"I should imagine not. The rule of a woman is tyranny; but the rule of a
man-woman grinds fine. Where are you going?"

"Anywhere."

"What to do?"

"See--see everything."

"You will be disappointed."

"And were you?"