Nineteenth Century_.'

'So I might.' He paused, and added casually, 'You read _The
Nineteenth Century_?'

'Now and then.'

Nancy felt herself an impostor, for of leading reviews she knew
little more than the names. And Tarrant's look, so steady, yet so
good-tempered, disturbed her conscience with the fear that he saw
through her. She was coming wretchedly out of this dialogue, in
which she had meant to make a figure.

He changed the subject; was it merely to spare her?

'Shall you go to Teignmouth again this year?'

'I don't know yet. I think not.'

Silence followed. Tarrant, to judge from his face, was absorbed in
pleasant thought; Nancy, on the other hand, felt so ill at ease that
she was on the point of rising, when his voice checked her.

'I have an idea'--he spoke dreamily--'of going to spend next
winter in the Bahamas.'

'Why the Bahamas?'

Speaking with all the carelessness she could command, Nancy shivered
a little. Spite of her 'culture,' she had but the vaguest notion