look which Grace bent upon him and
Miriam, on entering, and the ominous
change which passed over her mobile
countenance, went far to counteract this
agreeable impression.

One story is good until another is told.
Freeman had really thought Grace a
fascinating girl, until he saw Miriam. There
was no harm in that: the trouble was, he
had allowed Grace to perceive his admiration.
He had already remarked that she
was a creature of violent extremes,
tempered, but not improved, by a thin polish
of subtlety. She was now about to give an
illustration of the passion of jealousy. But
it was not her jealousy that Freeman minded:
it was the prospect of Miriam's scorn when
she should surmise that he had given Grace
cause to be jealous. Miriam was not the
sort of character to enter into a competition
with any other woman about a lover. He
would lose her before he had a chance to
try to win her.

But fortune proved rather more favorable
than Freeman expected, or, perhaps, than
he deserved. Grace's attack was too
impetuous. She stopped just inside the threshold,
and said, in an imperious tone, "Come