entire propriety all the recognised duties of life. He was
intelligent, with originality; he was good-natured without shadow of
boisterous impulse. In countenance he strongly resembled his mother,
who had been a very handsome woman (Irene had more of her father's
features), and, of course, he well knew that the eyes of ladies
rested upon him with peculiar interest; but no vulgar vanity
appeared in his demeanour. As a matter of routine, he dressed well,
but he abhorred the hint of foppishness. In athletics he had kept
the golden mean, as in all else; he exercised his body for health,
not for the pride of emulation. As to his career, he was at present
reading for the Bar. In meditative moments it seemed to him that he
was, perhaps, best fitted for the diplomatic service.

Not till this gentleman had taken his leave, which he did (to catch
a train) soon after lunch, was there any mention of the fact that
the Hannafords had a stranger residing under their roof: in coarse
English, a lodger.

To Eustace, as his aunt knew, the subject would necessarily have
been painful; and not only in the snobbish sense; it would really
have distressed him to learn that his kinsfolk were glad of such a
supplement to their income. But soon after his retirement, Mrs.
Hannaford spoke of the matter, and no sooner had she mentioned Piers
Otway's name than Irene flashed upon her a look of attentive
interest.

"Is he related to Jerome Otway, the agitator?--His son? How
delightful! Oh, I know all about him; I mean, about the old man. One
of our friends at Helsingfors was an old French revolutionist, who
has lived a great deal in England; he was always talking about his