come back with information that the Rector was undiscoverable, so Mrs. Grey volunteered to show Mr. Hazlewood the garden. "She'll tell you all the flowers wrong," Pauline warned him. Mr. Hazlewood bowed. "I'm afraid I know nothing about flowers." "Guy has learnt a lot from Father," said Pauline. "Haven't you, Guy?" She was making the bravest effort, but it was hopeless, utterly hopeless, Guy thought. How the promenade round these gardens that were haunted with his and her delights was banishing them one by one. How endless it was, and how complete was the failure to incorporate his father in a life which his advent had so detestably disturbed. Guy acknowledged that the meeting between him and Pauline had served no purpose, and as he looked forward to the final battle between their wills this evening, he set his teeth with rage to defeat his father, at the moment caring not at all if he never saw him again. Guy knew, as they were walking back to Plashers Mead, how little worth while it was to ask what his father had thought of the Greys; but nevertheless he could not resist the direct enquiry. "They seem a very happy-go-lucky family," was the reply. "I thought it extremely strange that Mr. Grey did not take the trouble to be at home for my visit. I should have thought that in regard to his daughter's future I might be considered sufficiently ... however, it's all of a piece." Guy hated the mock-modest lacuna in the characterization, and he thought of the many schoolmasters he had known whose consciousness of external opinion never allowed them to claim a virtue for themselves, although their least action always contained an implication of merit. Guy made some excuse for the Rector's absence and rather moodily walked on beside his father. The battle should be to-night; and after dinner he came directly to the point. "I hope you liked Pauline?" "My dear Guy, your impulsiveness extends too far. How can I after a few minutes' conversation pronounce an opinion?" "But she's not a pathological case," cried Guy in exasperation. "Precisely," retorted his father. "And therefore I pay her the compliment of not rushing into headstrong approval, or disapproval. Certainly she seemed to me superficially a very charming girl, but I should be inclined to think somewhat excitable." "Of course, she was shy." "Naturally. These sudden immersions in new relationships do not make for ease. I was myself a little embarrassed. But, after all, the question is not whether I like--er--Pauline, but whether I am justified on her account as well as on yours in giving my countenance to this ridiculous engagement. Please don't interrupt me. My time is short, and I must as your father fulfil my obligations to you by saying what I have to say." Even in his speech he was epistolary, and while he spoke Guy was all the time, as it were, tearing him into small pieces and dropping him deliberately into the waste-paper-basket.