He had shot both his bolts; and though for a moment dismayed by the reflection that he had no more in reserve, there was consolation in the hope that no more would be required of him. Paul was evidently a gentlemanly fellow who would avoid unpleasant subjects. The general opinion of Paul, though it took a different form, was equally favourable. No sooner had the lovers disappeared in orthodox fashion, than encomiums broke out all round. They compared him with people they knew; he was like one man but taller--he reminded them of another but he was handsomer. Perhaps he was not strictly handsome, but certainly he was distinguished looking. If his nose were not a little on one side, it would be a good nose. Sue had not noticed that it was on one side; she thought it a very good nose as it was. Sue was even more enthusiastic than Sybil. Sybil lamented the absence of a moustache. Let a mouth be ever so good, a moustache was an improvement,--whereat her father stroked his own and agreed with her. In the midst of it all, Leonore slipped aside, and passed into the next room where the photograph was. She was going to convince herself of its being unlike, absolutely unlike, the original. She was going to discover, point by point, wherein lay the contrast, and abandon for ever the old Paul, thus replaced by the new. The old Paul looked at her, and she started. For the new Paul had looked, just once, for a single passing minute, the same. CHAPTER XIII. "I AM TO GIVE YOU A WIDE BERTH, ALWAYS." A formal dinner-party was of course necessary to introduce Major Foster to the neighbourhood, and it took place a week after his arrival. "You will wear your best white silk, I suppose, Leo," said Sue, beforehand. "No," said Leo, sharply. "Won't you, dear? But we are all going to dress up a little, and you look so well in white." "I--never mind, I am not going to wear it." "What shall you wear?" "Something--anything." "But, Leo----" "What _does_ it matter? Why should you care? You never used to worry about my clothes;" perceiving however that Sue looked hurt, Leo laughed--not quite naturally. "Don't you see, stupid old darling, that white silk--well, it makes a bride, and _I_ am not the bride." "But you wore it in London." "One wears in London what one never wears out of it." There was finality in the tone, but Sue persevered; she had not the art of letting well alone. "Your only other is the grey voile." "Well, it would do well enough," impatiently. "It's in rags, but it will do. You ought to be flattered, as it was your present." "But it really is rather the worse for wear, Leo; and the white silk----" Leo ran out of the room, and presently she was seen tearing down the avenue at breakneck speed, and did not look round, though hailed loudly from the terrace, as she swept out of sight.