"I neither approve nor disapprove," said Mrs. Bell,
poising her elbow on the table, her chin upon her hand,
and her judgment, as it were, upon her chin. "I think
her mind ought to develop along the lines that nature
intended; I think nature is wiser than I am"--there was
an effect of condescending explanation here--"and I don't
feel justified in interfering. I may be wrong--"

"Oh no!" said Miss Kimpsey.

"But Elfrida's reading has always been very general. She
has a remarkable mind, if you will excuse my saying so;
it devours everything. I can't tell you _when_ she learned
to read, Miss Kimpsey--it seemed to come to her. She has
often reminded me of what you see in the biographies of
distinguished people about their youth. There are really
a great many points of similarity sometimes. I shouldn't
be surprised if Elfrida did anything. I wish _I_ had
had her opportunities!"

"She's growing very good-looking," remarked Miss Kimpsey.

"It's an interesting face," Mrs. Bell returned. "Here
is her last photograph. It's full of soul, I think. She
posed herself," Mrs. Bell added unconsciously.

It was a cabinet photograph of a girl whose eyes looked
definitely out of it, dark, large, well shaded, full of
a desire to be beautiful at once expressed and fulfilled.
The nose was a trifle heavily blocked, but the mouth had