Mary blushed at his unconscious divination. "I do not know," she said.
"But you are one person, Jim Daly is another. You have had every
advantage; he is a--er--blatherskite. Yet you condescend to put
yourself on a par with him, and condone the offence on the ground that
your little world winks at it. Remember

"'Spirits are not finely touched
But to fine issues.'

How shall society progress, unless my sex insists on at least that
patent of nobility in the men who woo us? I am reading you a lecture,
but you insisted on it."

George stood for a moment silent. "You are right, I suppose." He
lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. Then he turned and left the
room.

As he passed out, Mary heard the voices of the orphans, Joe and Frank,
in the entry. The former in greeting her held out a letter which had
just been delivered by the postman.

"You've come back, Miss Wellington," cried the little boy rapturously.

"Yes, Joe dear."

Mechanically she opened the envelope. As she read the contents she
smiled faintly and nodded her head as much as to say that the news was
not unexpected.

"But _noblesse oblige_," she murmured to herself proudly, not