"They say so."

"And what is your opinion Mr. Siward?"

"Oh, I ought to have known better." Something about him reminded her of
a bad small boy; and suddenly in spite of her better sense, in spite of
her instinctive caution, she found herself on the very verge of
laughter. What was it in the man that disarmed and invited a
confidence--scarcely justified it appeared? What was it now that moved
her to overlook what few overlook--not the fault, but its publicity? Was
it his agreeable bearing, his pleasant badinage, his amiably listless
moments of preoccupation, his youth that appealed to her--aroused her
charity, her generosity, her curiosity?

And had other people continued to accept him, too? What would Quarrier
think of his presence at Shotover? She began to realise that she was a
little afraid of Quarrier's opinions. And his opinions were always
judgments. However Grace Ferrall had thought it proper to ask him, and
that meant social absolution. As far as that went she also was perfectly
ready to absolve him if he needed it. But perhaps he didn't care!--She
looked at him, furtively. He seemed to be tranquil enough in his
abstraction. Trouble appeared to slide very easily from his broad young
shoulders. Perhaps he was already taking much for granted in her
gentleness with him. And gradually speculation became interest and
interest a young girl's innocent curiosity to learn something of a man
whose record it seemed almost impossible to reconcile with his
personality.

"I was wondering," he said looking up to encounter her clear eyes,