after a moment: "You are considerate toward animals; it is good in a
man."

"Oh, it's no merit. When animals are uncomfortable it worries me. It's
one sort of selfishness, you see."

"What nonsense," she said; and her smile was very friendly. "Why doesn't
a nice man ever admit he's nice when told so?"

It seems they had advanced that far. For she was beginning to find this
young man not only safe but promising; she had met nobody recently half
as amusing, and the outlook at Shotover House had been unpromising with
only the overgrateful Page twins to practise on--the other men
collectively and individually boring her. And suddenly, welcome as manna
from the sky, behold this highly agreeable boy to play with--until
Quarrier arrived. Her telegram had been addressed to Mr. Quarrier.

"What was it you were saying about selfishness?" she asked. "Oh, I
remember. It was nonsense."

"Certainly."

She laughed, adding: "Selfishness is so simply defined you know."

"Is it? How."

"A refusal to renounce. That covers everything," she concluded.

"Sometimes renunciation is weakness--isn't it?" he suggested.