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. ’ ‘Nonsense,’ said Mrs Sindlesham loudly, casting an anxious glance upon Melusine. “Splendid you are looking to-day, Miss Stanley,” he said. “It isn’t fair. ” They went on for a time without another word. She seemed bursting with the desire to talk, and watching for her opportunity. Playing with one hand he turned on his stool to glance at her. Everything, Miss Miniver said, was “working up,” everything was “coming on”—the Higher Thought, the Simple Life, Socialism, Humanitarianism, it was all the same really. ‘You would know more of me?’ ‘I would know everything about you,’ Gerald told her, his tone at once provocative and inviting. All emotions laid hold of him, but none could he stay long enough to analyze it. . Three more people came to meet them at the door. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him.
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