Miss Winwood replied that she could not pry into the lad's private
affairs. Her brother retorted that a youth, in his physically
helpless condition, who was really ingenuous, would have poured out
his life's history into the ears of so sympathetic a woman, and have
bored her to tears with the inner secrets of his soul.

"He has high aspirations. He has told me of them. But he hasn't
bored me a bit," said Ursula.

"What does he aspire to?"

"What does any brilliant young fellow of two or three and twenty
aspire to? Anything, everything. He has only to find his path."

"Yes, but what is his path?"

"I wish you weren't so much like Uncle Edward, James," said Ursula.

"He's a damned clever old man," said Colonel Winwood, "and I wish he
had stayed here long enough to be able to put our young friend
through a searching cross-examination."

Ursula lifted her finger-bowl an inch from the doiley and carefully
put it down again. It was the evening of Colonel Winwood's arrival,
and they were lingering over coffee in the great, picture-hung and
softly lighted dining room. Having fixed the bowl in the exact
centre of the doiley, she flashed round on her brother. "My dear
James, do you think I'm an idiot?"

He took his cigar from his lips and looked at her with not