“Don’t think that I am complaining,” she went on hurriedly, “or that I want to rush into pleasure-seeking, because I do not—­a little of that goes a long way with me.  Besides, I know that I have many things to be thankful for.  Few women have such a kind father as mine, though we do quarrel at times.  Of course we cannot have everything our own way in this world, and I daresay that I do not make the best of things.  Still, at times it does seem a little hard that I should be forced to lead such a narrow life, just when I feel that I could work in a wide one.”

Harold looked up at her face and saw that a tear was gathering in her dark eyes and in his heart he registered a vow that if by any means it ever lay within his power to improve her lot he would give everything he had to do it.  But all he said was: 

“Don’t be downhearted, Miss de la Molle.  Things change in a wonderful way, and often they mend when they look worst.  You know,” he went on a little nervously, “I am an old-fashioned sort of individual, and I believe in Providence and all that sort of thing, you see, and that matters generally come pretty well straight in the long run if people deserve it.”

Ida shook her head a little doubtfully and sighed.

“Perhaps,” she said, “but I suppose that we do not deserve it.  Anyhow, our good fortune is a long while coming,” and the conversation dropped.

Still her friend’s strong belief in the efficacy of Providence, and generally his masculine sturdiness, did cheer her up considerably.  Even the strongest women, if they have any element that can be called feminine left in them, want somebody of the other sex to lean on, and she was no exception to the rule.  Besides, if Ida’s society had charms for Colonel Quaritch, his society had almost if not quite as much charm for her.  It may be remembered that on the night when they first met she had spoken to herself of him as the kind of man whom she would like to marry.  The thought was a passing one, and it may be safely said that she had not since entertained any serious idea of marriage in connection with Colonel Quaritch.  The only person whom there seemed to be the slightest probability of her marrying was Edward Cossey, and the mere thought of this was enough to make the whole idea of matrimony repugnant to her.

But this notwithstanding, day by day she found Harold Quaritch’s society more congenial.  Herself by nature, and also to a certain degree by education, a cultured woman, she rejoiced to find in him an entirely kindred spirit.  For beneath his somewhat rugged and unpromising exterior, Harold Quaritch hid a vein of considerable richness.  Few of those who associated with him would have believed that the man had a side to his nature which was almost poetic, or that he was a ripe and finished scholar, and, what is more, not devoid of a certain dry humour.  Then he had travelled far and seen much of men and manners, gathering