’I daresay it was rather impertinent of me to call at such an untimely hour,’ said Roger.

’Not at all; I call at all hours, and nothing is ever said about it.  It was just because she was put out that morning.  I’ll answer for it she’s sorry now, and I’m sure you may go there at any time you like in the future.’

Still, Roger did not choose to go again for two or three weeks, and the consequence was that the next time he called the ladies were out.  Once again he had the same ill-luck, and then he received a little pretty three-cornered note from Mrs. Gibson:—­

MY DEAR SIR,—­How is it that you are become so formal all on a sudden, leaving cards, instead of awaiting our return?  Fie for shame!  If you had seen the faces of disappointment that I did when the horrid little bits of pasteboard were displayed to our view, you would not have borne malice against me so long; for it is really punishing others as well as my naughty self.  If you will come to-morrow—­as early as you like—­ and lunch with us, I’ll own I was cross, and acknowledge myself a penitent.—­Yours ever, HYACINTH C. K. GIBSON.

There was no resisting this, even if there had not been strong inclination to back up the pretty words.  Roger went, and Mrs. Gibson caressed and petted him in her sweetest, silkiest manner.  Cynthia looked lovelier than ever to him for the slight restriction that had been laid for a time on their intercourse.  She might be gay and sparkling with Osborne; with Roger she was soft and grave.  Instinctively she knew her men.  She saw that Osborne was only interested in her because of her position in a family with whom he was intimate; that his friendship was without the least touch of sentiment; and that his admiration was only the warm criticism of an artist for unusual beauty.  But she felt how different Roger’s relation to her was.  To him she was the one, alone, peerless.  If his love was prohibited, it would be long years before he could sink down into tepid friendship; and to him her personal loveliness was only one of the many charms that made him tremble into passion.  Cynthia was not capable of returning such feelings; she had had too little true love in her life, and perhaps too much admiration to do so; but she appreciated this honest ardour, this loyal worship that was new to her experience.  Such appreciation, and such respect for his true and affectionate nature, gave a serious tenderness to her manner to Roger, which allured him with a fresh and separate grace.  Molly sate by, and wondered how it would all end, or, rather, how soon it would all end, for she thought that no girl could resist such reverent passion; and on Roger’s side there could be no doubt—­alas! there could be no doubt.  An older spectator might have looked far ahead, and thought of the question of pounds, shillings, and pence.  Where was the necessary income for a marriage to come from?  Roger had his fellowship now, it is true; but the income of that would be lost if he