not exactly profound; the quality of her mind left something to be desired; her breeding fell short of what is demanded by the fastidious; but there was something healthy and genuine about her, which made these deficiencies a matter for indulgence rather than for censure.  And then, she was by no means ill-looking.  Once or twice he caught an aspect of her features which had a certain impressiveness; with nature cast in a more serious mould, she might have become a really beautiful woman.

Just as he had found courage to turn the talk in a personal direction, with an inquiry about Canadian life, he saw the approach of Dyce Lashmar.  A glance at Miss Tomalin showed him that she had perceived the young politician, who was looking with manifest interest at her.  Abruptly he rose.  He had thought of asking the girl to let him take her to the supper-room, but at the sight of Lashmar he did not hesitate for a moment about retreating.  And at once he quitted the house.

Dymchurch had never inclined to tender experiences; his life so far was without romance.  Women more often amused than interested him; his humorous disposition found play among their lighter characteristics, and on the other hand—­natural complement of humour—­he felt a certain awe of the mysterious in their being.  Except his own sisters, whom, naturally enough, he regarded as quite exceptional persons, he had never been on terms of intimacy with any woman of the educated world.  Regarding marriage as impracticable—­ for he had always shrunk from the thought of accepting money with a wife—­he gave as little heed as possible to the other sex, tried to leave it altogether out of account in his musings and reasonings upon existence.  Frankly he said to himself that he knew nothing about women, and that he was just as likely to be wrong as right in any theory he might form about their place in the world, their dues, their possibilities.  By temper, he leaned to the old way of regarding them; women militant, women in the public eye, were on the whole unpleasing to him.  But he was satisfied with an occasional laugh at these extravagances, and heard with tolerable patience anyone who pleaded the cause of female emancipation.  In brief, women lay beyond the circle of his interests.

The explanation of his abrupt withdrawal on Lashmar’s appearance was, simply, that he all at once imagined a private understanding between his political friend and Miss Tomalin.  The possibility had not hitherto occurred to him:  he had given too little thought to Lady Ogram’s niece.  Now, of a sudden, it flashed upon him that Lashmar was seeking the girl in marriage, perhaps had already won her favour.  The thought that Lashmar might perchance regard him as a rival pricked his pride; not for a moment could he rest under that misconstruction.  He left the field clear, and drew breath like a man who has shaken off an embarrassment.