himself agreeable. She had always something in hand--a flower in her
tapestry to finish, the leaves of a magazine to cut, a button to sew on
her glove (she carried a little work-bag in her pocket and was a person
of the daintiest habits), a pencil to ply ever so neatly in a sketchbook
which she rested on her knee. When we were indoors--mainly then at her
mother's modest rooms--she had always the resource of her piano, of
which she was of course a perfect mistress.

These pursuits supported her, they helped her to an assurance under such
narrow inspection--I ended by rebuking Archie for it; I told him he
stared the poor girl out of countenance--and she sought further relief
in smiling all over the place. When my young man's eyes shone at her
those of Miss Pallant addressed themselves brightly to the trees and
clouds and other surrounding objects, including her mother and me.
Sometimes she broke into a sudden embarrassed happy pointless laugh.
When she wandered off with him she looked back at us in a manner that
promised it wasn't for long and that she was with us still in spirit. If
I liked her I had therefore my good reason: it was many a day since a
pretty girl had had the air of taking me so much into account. Sometimes
when they were so far away as not to disturb us she read aloud a little
to Mr. Archie. I don't know where she got her books--I never provided
them, and certainly he didn't. He was no reader and I fear he often
dozed.




III

I remember the first time--it was at the end of about ten days of this--