“Yes—Oliver!” She met his twinkling eyes stubbornly. “If you please, what did you call Florence just now?” “It _is_ a very nice place,” she defended herself. There might or might not have been a dimpling of the austere lines of her mouth. “And you talked about hat-shops.” The dimple was unmistakable. There were even signs of a second one. “You know what I’m driving at?” he insisted. “Oh, yes,” said Laura. “Well, then—wasn’t it?” “Wasn’t it what?” said Justin. She looked from one to another. “Pose!” said Laura as meekly as you please. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XV I wonder, Collaborator, if you are out of humour with Laura? She has been, in the last chapter, a trifle—how shall we say?—touchy—ungracious—narrow-hearted? has shown herself a supercilious chit? If you thought so, there was one person at least in entire and most penitent agreement with you. Laura, at the evening ceremonial her mother had taught her, that she had never foregone—Laura, with her Bible and her good little books, holding her day in review, had already used every adjective that you offer me, over and over again, in a bewilderment at her own curmudgeonry that I, for one, find a little laughable and still more pathetic. She had her standards of conduct set up like ninepins, and when her adolescence knocked them over, who so puzzled as Laura? She read at random— _A continual dropping on a very rainy day and a contentious woman are alike._ “Ah!” thought Laura, heavily. _A gracious woman retaineth honour_ ... like Mrs. Cloud ... grave and sweet, even when she didn’t like the Seton man a bit.... Now why couldn’t she, Laura, have behaved beautifully like that ... instead of saying what she thought?... Yet wasn’t it hypocritical not to say what one thought? What a muddle it was!... But she was sure she had been wrong, simply because she felt it in her bones. When the moralities failed her she always trusted to her bones. Ah, well, she must make up for it tomorrow!... She could always make people like her if she tried ... and Mr. Seton had really been quite decent.... He might have taken offence, and then Justin would have been furious.... There was no reason but a Dr. Fell reason for disliking Oliver Seton, was there? Or was there?... She went to sleep unsatisfied. Yet, had she read on a page or two, she would have found her answer, the answer written for her three thousand years ago— _Who is able to stand before jealousy?_ If Solomon could not, with all his experience, isn’t there some slight excuse for Laura Valentine?