But between Myles and his neighbour those words had never been spoken. They had never exchanged a syllable--Myles because of a certain British-workmanlike shyness, and a general sense that she belonged, despite the simplicity of her appearance, manner, and attire, to the class of ‘fine ladies’ whom he disliked and distrusted--the class which was typified for him in the person of Mrs. Mallory of the Oakenrod--and of whom he had the idea that they were silly, pretty, useless, expensive things, good for nothing but to spend a man’s money, and make him miserable with their tricks and antics--and break his heart if he were fool enough to give it into their keeping--incapable of taking any part in the serious things of life. That was his opinion of ‘ladies.’ For the women of his own class he had a hearty respect and admiration: they could earn wages; they could work; they did not meddle with things out of their sphere; they had a distinct use and purpose; he never uttered an ill word to or of any one of them. He had never spoken to his neighbour, because he was shy, and did not know how to begin a conversation; but he would have scorned to own it: he would have said, ‘Speak to her? Why should I speak to her? I’ve nothing that I want to say to her.’ Which would have been untrue; for there was such intelligence, such sympathy in her face, that he many a time caught himself, on reading any striking passage, wondering what she would think of it if she had read it. She had never spoken to him--because--why--because--well, what did it matter? possibly because she was a little more sensible than most girls, and felt no wish to speak unless she had something to say. They met without sign of recognition. He would take his place--she hers; she always had some book under her arm, for which she had stopped to ask the librarian on her way in, and they would often pass a couple of hours thus almost without a word or a look. She read earnestly and hard--not as if she read for pleasure, but for work--with a purpose. Privately, Myles was mighty puzzled to know what she could be reading, or rather, with what object she read what she did. Once he had been quite excited (silently) to see her poring over a musical score; reading it as if it were a book. One of the specialities of the Thanshope Free Library was its musical department, which was richly stocked both in scores and in treatises on music and musicians. During the summer the room was generally nearly empty. The people were otherwise employed, so that often not more than half a dozen readers were to be found in all the large, airy room--sometimes Myles and the studious, unknown ‘reading girl’ were all alone there. Myles opened his Review, and his eye fell upon an article on the governing classes which instantly caught his attention. In the hope of finding some follies and weaknesses of the governing classes sharply castigated, he settled himself with pleased expectation to his book.