not be too difficult about showing the way herself. And there you
are at a first-class beginning.

The night after she met Gareth-Lawless in a lane whose banks were
thick with bluebells, Amabel and her sister Alice huddled close
together in bed and talked almost pantingly in whispers over the
possibilities which might reveal themselves--God willing--through
a further acquaintance with Mr. Gareth-Lawless. They were eager and
breathlessly anxious but they were young--YOUNG in their eagerness
and Amabel was full of delight in his good looks.

"He is SO handsome, Alice," she whispered actually hugging her, not
with affection but exultation. "And he can't be more than twenty-six
or seven. And I'm SURE he liked me. You know that way a man has of
looking at you--one sees it even in a place like this where there
are only curates and things. He has brown eyes--like dark bright
water in pools. Oh, Alice, if he SHOULD!"

Alice was not perhaps as enthusiastic as her sister. Amabel had
seen him first and in the Darrel household there was a sort of
unwritten, not always observed code flimsily founded on "First come
first served." Just at the outset of an acquaintance one might
say "Hands off" as it were. But not for long.

"It doesn't matter how pretty one is they seldom do," Alice
grumbled. "And he mayn't have a farthing."

"Alice," whispered Amabel almost agonizingly, "I wouldn't
CARE a farthing--if only he WOULD! Have I a farthing--have you a
farthing--has anyone who ever comes here a farthing? He lives in