Mrs. Thorne coughed in her most discreet manner, and looked about the room for a moment or two. Then, "Do _you_ like him, Mr. Winthrop?" she said, her eyes on the opposite wall. "My dear lady, what has that got to do with it?" "Much," responded Mrs. Thorne, modestly dropping her eyes to the carpet. "A man's opinion of a man, you know, may be quite different from a woman's." "There is his cousin, Mr. Moore." "I have already asked Mr. Moore; he knows only Mr. Spenser's grandfathers," replied Mrs. Thorne, dismissing the clergyman, as informant, with a wave of her dry little hand. "Dr. Kirby, then." "Dr. _Kirby_" said the lady, with an especial emphasis on the name, as though there were a dozen other doctors in Gracias--"Dr. _Kirby_ speaks well of Mr. Spenser. But we should not count too much upon that, for Dr. _Kirby_ looks upon him, as I may say, medically." "Good heavens! does he want to dissect him?" said Winthrop. Mrs. Thorne gave her guarded little laugh. "No; but he says that he is such a perfect specimen, physically, of the Anglo-Saxon at his best. He may be; I am sure I am willing. But we are not all ethnologists, I suppose, and something more definite in the way of a background than ancient Saxony, or even Anglia, would be, I think, desirable, when, as I remarked before, one is seeing so much of a person." There was a short silence, which Winthrop did not break. Then he rose, and took up his hat and whip; he had been paying one of his afternoon visits at the old house. "Don't be uneasy," he said, in the half-protecting tone which he often adopted now when speaking to the little mistress of East Angels; "if you are seeing much of this Mr. Spenser, you and your daughter, you must remember that you are also seeing much of others as well; of Manuel Ruiz, of young Torres, even of myself; there's safety in numbers." "Mr. Spenser is not in the least like any of you; that is my trouble," Mrs. Thorne declared, with emphasis. "I do not mean," she added, with her anxious particularity, "that _you_ are in the least like Manuel or Adolfo, Mr. Winthrop; of course not." Winthrop did not reply to this beyond a smile. He took leave, and went towards the door. Mrs. Thorne's gaze followed him; then with her quick step she crossed the room, and stopped him on the threshold. "Mr. Winthrop, do _you_ like to see my little girl showing such an interest in this Lucian Spenser?" Her voice was almost a whisper, but her bright eyes met his bravely. For a moment he returned her gaze. Then, "I like it immensely," he said, and went down the stairs.