“It is true,” Tom admitted, “I have advised her to read books which I shouldn’t give to ordinary girls. Ada is not an ordinary girl. Do not distress yourself, dear lady; no ill will come of it. It is only making smooth for her a path which would otherwise be intolerably rough.” “But isn’t it leading her where she wouldn’t otherwise be tempted to go?” asked Isabel. “I can assure you, no. Rough or smooth, she will take this direction. But would you rather I did no more? Your wish is supreme.” “You are a vastly better judge in these matters than I am,” said Isabel modestly (meaning what she said, though not perhaps quite feeling it), “and I know you will be careful. I myself am helpless with Ada; my guardianship is nominal, I am sorry to say.” To this friend it was that Ada had now of late been in the habit of going when she wished to have the change of London life, and now that she no longer accompanied Mrs. Clarendon during the season. The arrangement was a good one. Isabel had in the first place protested, trying to point out to the girl the advantage of making acquaintances in London other than those which Mr. Meres could offer her. Ada smiled in her least pleasant way, and Isabel surrendered the point, not in her heart sorry to be free when she took her own recreation. “What do you think of Mr. Kingcote?” Isabel asked Ada, as they drank tea together after the visitor had left. “I can’t judge him on so slight an acquaintance,” the girl answered. “I like his voice.” “Strange that I was going to say the same thing. You shouldn’t have gone out whilst we were talking. He, at all events, will not drive you away with--what do you call it?--imbecile chatter.” “He seems to be a man of some culture. I don’t know that he will find us very attractive.” “My poor self, certainly not. But it would be pleasant if he and you found some interest in common, wouldn’t it? We must have him with the Vissians to dine.” “Your social instincts are really remarkable.” It was a noteworthy point that Ada had never learnt to address Mrs. Clarendon by any name save the formal one. “Do you think Mr. Kingcote is prepared for formal dining?” “By-the-bye, most likely not,” said Isabel, laughing. “But it will be a charity to persuade him to come here sometimes. However, I don’t think he’ll live there through the winter.” “Doesn’t it occur to you that he may have gone there because he finds a difficulty in living in ordinary ways?” “Yes, very likely.” She reflected, adding presently: “He has a nice voice.” CHAPTER VIII.