at the beauty she had tried to express in them, and the sacrilege enraged her more than her mother's petulance, for they were young and strong and full of life, and they should not have been blind. It was against them that she first found relief in caricature, and as they went through their Public Schools and were more and more compressed into type, she pilloried them, and, as a consequence, even when she was a young woman, big and fine, with the tender, delicate bloom of seventeen upon her, she had to submit to the indignity of knuckle-drill, brush, dry-shave, and wrist-screw. She was filled with a horror of men, and especially Public School men, for they seemed to her entirely lacking in decency, humility, and honesty. They pretended to be so fine and ignored everything that was finer than themselves. Her brothers' foolish love-affairs disgusted her and made her suppress in herself every emotion that tried to find its way to a good-looking boy or young man. She was not shy of them or afraid of them, but she would not encourage in them what she so detested in her brothers. During her first year in London she devoted herself heart and soul to her work. There were two or three families who were kind to her as her mother's daughter, but their ways were her mother's, and she only visited them as a duty, and to break the monotony of the school and the hostel. Her encounter with Mitchell took place at the time when Mendel's influence on him had set him in revolt against his Public School training. On the other hand, the sight of the abyss of poverty into which Mendel descended so easily had set him reeling. He was shrewd enough to know that Hetty Finch was using him as a ladder to get out of it, and that there was a real danger of her kicking him down into it. In a state of horrible confusion he plunged at the most obvious outlet, the "pure girl" of the tradition of his upbringing. He made no concealment of it, but turned to Morrison with a childlike confidence that touched her. She was feeling lonely, disappointed, and dissatisfied with herself and was glad of his company. It was a change from the woman-ridden atmosphere of the hostel. By way of making their relationship seemly he introduced her to his family, where as the pure young girl who was to save their hope from wild courses she was a great success. "First sensible thing you've done, my boy," said Mr. Mitchell, that great man, a journalist who had been a correspondent in a dozen wars. "A pure friendship between a boy and a girl has a most ennobling influence--most ennobling." "She is truly spiritual," sighed Mrs. Mitchell, "the type who justifies the independence of the modern girl, whatever the Prime Minister may say." "That scoundrel!" cried Mr. Mitchell. "That infamous buffoon who has not a grain of Liberalism left in his toadying mind!" "My dear," said Mrs. Mitchell, "we were talking about little Miss Morrison."