"Yes, it's very pretty, dear." And Lady Manorwater, who possessed half a
dozen houses up and down the land, patted her guest's arm and looked
with pleasure on the flushed girlish face.


Two hours later, Alice, having completed dressing, leaned out of her
bedroom window to drink in the soft air of evening. She had not brought
a maid, and had refused her hostess's offer to lend her her own on the
ground that maids were a superfluity. It was her desire to be a very
practical young person, a scorner of modes and trivialities, and yet she
had taken unusual care with her toilet this evening, and had spent many
minutes before the glass. Looking at herself carefully, a growing
conviction began to be confirmed--that she was really rather pretty.
She had reddish-brown hair and--a rare conjunction--dark eyes and
eyebrows and a delicate colour. As a small girl she had lamented
bitterly the fate that bad not given her the orthodox beauty of the dark
or fair maiden, and in her school days she had passed for plain. Now it
began to dawn on her that she had beauty of a kind--the charm of
strangeness; and her slim strong figure had the grace which a wholesome
life alone can give. She was in high spirits, curious, interested, and
generous. The people amused her, the place was a fairyland and outside
the golden weather lay still and fragrant among the hills.

When she came down to the drawing-room she found the whole party
assembled. A tall man with a brown beard and a slight stoop ceased to
assault the handle of a firescreen and came over to greet her. He had
only come back half an hour ago, he explained, and so had missed her
arrival. The face attracted and soothed her. Abundant kindness lurked
in the humorous brown eyes, and a queer pucker on the brow gave him the
air of a benevolent despot. If this was Lord Manorwater, she had no