Miss Yule, he saw that she doubted for an instant whether or not
to give her hand; yet she decided to do so, and there was
something very pleasant to him in its warm softness. She smiled
with a slight embarrassment, meeting his look only for a second.

'I have seen you several times, Miss Yule,' he said in a friendly
way, 'though without knowing your name. It was under the great
dome.'

She laughed, readily understanding his phrase.

'I am there very often,' was her reply.

'What great dome?' asked Miss Harrow, with surprise.

'That of the British Museum Reading-room,' explained Jasper;
'known to some of us as the valley of the shadow of books. People
who often work there necessarily get to know each other by sight.

In the same way I knew Miss Yule's father when I happened to pass
him in the road yesterday.'

The three girls began to converse together, perforce of
trivialities. Marian Yule spoke in rather slow tones,
thoughtfully, gently; she had linked her fingers, and laid her
hands, palms downwards, upon her lap--a nervous action. Her
accent was pure, unpretentious; and she used none of the
fashionable turns of speech which would have suggested the habit
of intercourse with distinctly metropolitan society.