"Gentle dulness!" Hubert thought involuntarily of Enid. Yes, the term fitted her very well. Timid, gentle, dull--thus unjustly he thought of her; while, as to Cynthia--whatever Cynthia's faults might be, she was not dull--a great virtue in Hubert's eyes. "I think you could make me approve of anything you do," he said, as he rose in obedience to her invitation to light his cigar. "Some people have the grace of becomingness; they adorn all they touch." "What a magnificent compliment! I will immediately put it to the test," said Cynthia lightly. She had also risen, and was examining a little silver box on the mantelpiece. "Here Madame keeps her Russian cigarettes," she said. "I have not set up a stock of my own, you see. Now give me a light. There--I can do it quite skilfully!" she said, as she placed one of the tiny _papelitos_ between her lips and gave one or two dainty puffs. "Now does it become me?" "Excellent well!" said Hubert, who was leaning back in an enormous chair, so long and deep that one lay rather than sat in it, and regarding her with amusement. "'All what you do, fair creature, still betters what is done.'" "Then I'm content," said Cynthia, seating herself and holding the cigarette lightly between her fingers. She still kept it alight by an occasional little puff; but Hubert smiled to see that her enjoyment of it was, as a humorist has said of his first cigar, "purely of an intellectual kind." She enjoyed doing what was unusual and _bizarre_--that was all. He wondered whence she sprang, this brilliant creature of earth with instincts so keen, desires so ardent, mind and imagination so much more fully developed than was usual with girls of her age. Cynthia's beauty was undeniable; but even without beauty, save that of youth, she would have been striking and remarkable. She was not conscious of his continued gaze at her; she seemed to be lost in thought--perhaps of her earlier years, for presently she said in a reflective tone-- "You were surprised at my quoting Scripture. I wonder why? I do not seem such a bad person that I must not quote the Bible, do I?" "Certainly not." "I used to be at the head of the Bible-class always when I was at St. Elizabeth's," she said dreamily. She did not notice that Hubert gave a little start when he heard the name. "Your school was called St. Elizabeth's?" "Yes." "At East Winstead?" "Yes"--this time rather hesitatingly. "Why?" "Did you happen to know a girl called Jane Wood?" The two looked at each other steadily for a minute or two. Hubert had spoken with resolute quietness; he thought that Cynthia's expression hardened, and that her color failed a little as she replied-- "I remember her quite well. She ran away." "Before you left?" "Before I left," said the girl, looking down at the cigarette she had taken from her lips and held between her fingers. Suddenly she threw it into the fire, and sitting erect, while a hot flush crossed her face, went on, "Why do you want to know?"