‘Good afternoon!’ suddenly said Helena, in a loud, clear voice, as she looked carelessly over her shoulder at the other two, who started, as if suddenly recalled to a sense of what was going on around them. Hugo and his companion left the mill-yard, and paced down the street in the bitter cold of the March twilight, now rapidly becoming darkness. The lamps were being lighted; some shops were open; the passengers along the streets were not many; the great factories were silent, there was no cloud of smoke to obscure the frostily twinkling stars. Helena suddenly began to speak, in a voice bitter, though it strove to be careless, and with a short laugh that was not a merry one. ‘How affecting--truly affecting it is, to see two such congenial spirits together as Mr. Sebastian Mallory and Miss Adrienne Blisset. He likes a rose-watery kind of woman, who looks up to him and thinks he is better than she is herself, and wiser; and she likes a dreamy, unpractical kind of man, full of sweet compliments and vague generalities--like a sugar-plum that breaks in your mouth, and then you find it has been full of a weak, diluted kind of essence--like Sebastian Mallory.’ ‘What a comparison!’ exclaimed Hugo, in a tone, almost of offence. ‘You are very harsh, sometimes, Miss Spenceley. Sebastian dreamy and unpractical! _Jawohl!_ I used to think so once; but I have found out that there is an iron hand under the silken glove. Once I fancied he was all art, all----’ ‘All art!’ said Helena, perversely twisting his imperfect English to suit her own purposes; ‘perhaps you were not so far wrong there, Hugo.’ ‘What has occurred to vex you, _mein Fräulein_?’ asked her companion innocently. ‘To vex me? I am not vexed. I am tired, and it is so cold. Well, go on! I don’t think very highly of Mr. Mallory, as you may be aware; and I should like to hear what you can find to say in his favour. What other good points has he?’ ‘_Herrgott!_ He is all good.’ ‘Ha! ha!’ ‘Miss Spenceley----’ ‘A good, bigoted Tory and Conservative, despite his professed radicalism. Mrs. Mallory need not have been distressed. He may call himself what he likes, but he hates progress.’ ‘I don’t understand about Radicals and Conservatives,’ said Hugo, good-humouredly. ‘I am densely ignorant about politics. In Prussia there are Liberals and Conservatives, and Communists, but I don’t know what any of them want. I don’t think the _Reichstag_ is the sphere for me--do you?’ ‘Good gracious! how should I know? I was not talking about Communists or the _Reichstag_. If you don’t know anything about them, you know something else, Hugo,’ she said, softening her voice confidentially. ‘I know that you are charming--so kind to me,’ said he, with a vibration in his voice--and indeed Helena had been very kind to the boy; ‘and I know that you sing “Since first I saw your face” like an angel.’