"It is very simple," he said, rising to go. "It is the bull in the china
shop--the Irish bull amongst the American china--dangerous, you know. Good
evening, Mrs. Wyndham; good evening, Miss Brandon." And he took his leave.
Miss Brandon watched his slim figure disappear through the heavy curtains
of the door.

"He has not changed much since I knew him," she said, turning again to the
fire. "I used to think he was clever."

"And have you changed your mind?" asked Mrs. Wyndham, laughing.

"Not quite, but I begin to doubt. He has very good manners, and looks
altogether like a gentleman."

"Of course," said Mrs. "Wyndham." His mother was a Shaw, although his
father came from South Carolina. But he is really very bright; Sam always
says he is one of the ablest men in Boston."

"In what way?" inquired Sybil.

"Oh, he is a lawyer, don't you know?--great railroad man."

"Oh," ejaculated Miss Brandon, and relapsed into silence.

Mrs. Wyndham rose and stood before the fire, and pushed a log back with
her small foot. Miss Brandon watched her, half wondering whether the
flames would not catch her dress.

"I have been to see that Miss Thorn," said Sybil presently.