between the trees, and the lamps glimmering in the distance, and the
faint pink glow had not yet died away.

'It is so quiet here,' I pleaded, 'and I could not get you alone for a
moment if we went in. Uncle Brian will be there, and Jill, and we could
not say a word. Aunt Philippa and Sara have gone to see Lesbia. I have
been driving with them all the afternoon. Sara has been shopping, and how
bored I was!'

'You uncivilised little heathen!' Then, very gravely, 'Well, how is poor
Lesbia?'

'Do not waste your pity on her,' I returned impatiently. 'She is as well
and cheerful as possible. Even Sara says so. She is not breaking her
heart about Charlie. She has left off mourning, and is as gay as ever.'

'You are always hard on Lesbia,' he returned gently. 'She is young,
my dear, you forget that, and a pretty girl, and very much admired.
It always seems to me she was very fond of the poor fellow.'

'She was good to him in his illness, but she never cared for Charlie as
he did for her. He worshipped the very ground she walked on. He thought
her perfection. Uncle Max, it was pitiful to hear him sometimes. He would
tell me how sweet and unselfish she was, and all the time I knew she was
but an ordinary, commonplace girl. If he had lived to marry her he would
have been disappointed in her. He was so large-hearted, and Lesbia has
such little aims.'

'So you always say, Ursula. But you women are so severe in your judgment
of each other. I doubt myself if the girl lives whom you would have