Checking the flow of her thoughts, the girl scanned her wardrobe for what she should choose to wear. She expected Dr. Milnes, whom she had not yet met since her return, and, as she was not entirely free from girlish vanity, she wanted to look nice. With the advice of her maid, she selected a light grey gown with long trailing skirts, and diaphanous collar and sleeves of old cream lace. It was the dress she had worn at the engagement party which Mrs. Friedberg had given in her honour; and though it had not met with David’s approval, being too puritanical for his taste, she fancied that Herbert and Geoffrey liked her in simple gowns. Her heart beat a little faster than usual as she passed down the stairs to await her guests--Geoffrey Milnes and his partner Dr. Forrest. She wondered what Geoffrey would have to say about her engagement, and half hoped that he would not congratulate her on the fact. She need not have been afraid; he did not even mention it, though his eyes wandered frequently to the ring which flashed almost aggressively on her finger. There was just a little constraint between them when, Karne having taken Dr. Forrest to look at some specimens of ancient art, they were left to a _tête-à-tête_ conversation; but it soon wore off, and Celia was so glad to see his good, honest English face again. They found plenty to talk about without being personal; and passed from grave to gay, and back again to grave. Celia was sitting on a small settee in the bay window, the light from a pink-shaded standard lamp casting quite a roseate glow on her face and form. Although she had only been away three months, Geoffrey found her changed. It may have been the cut of her London gown, but she certainly seemed to have grown taller and more graceful. She wore her hair differently too; for, instead of being done Madonna fashion as of old, it was dressed high, and had the effect of making her look quite distinguished. And there was a dreamy wistfulness about the eyes, and a little pathetic droop about the lips which had not been there before; he found out the reason for it in the course of conversation--_she had begun to think_. To almost every youthful mind there comes a period of perturbation and unrest; one asks the eternal question “Why?” and strives to discern the _raison d’être_ of things. Life, death, religion, ethics, and social inequality--all those problems which defy even the keenest penetration, crop up in overwhelming force, and one’s soul is filled with a passionate yearning to master the knowledge of the unattainable. This quickening of the mental and spiritual faculties had come to Celia now; and in her case it was primarily the consciousness of the “deep sighing of the poor.”