"It is too soon to ask my opinion; I have not made up my mind. Indeed I like her," as Cathy looked a little crestfallen; "I should not wonder if I like her better the more I know her; her voice is delicious, so low and musical, with a little trill in it, and her eyes looked so kindly at one." "You are a model of reserve and prudence, my dear Madam Dignity. I always make up my mind the first minute whether I like a person or not, and never swerve an inch from my like or dislike afterwards; that is feminine instinct, as I tell Garth. He is as tiresome as you are; one can never get at his opinion of a person till he has thoroughly sifted and weighed them in a sort of moral balance of his own." "I must say I think that he is wise." "He has strong prejudices though; small sins are sometimes heinous in his eyes. Garth's pride is his chief fault; he is quite absurd on some points. I have heard him say, more than once, that he would never marry a rich woman, however much he cared for her; that a man should never be beholden to his wife for anything but love. Isn't that absurd?" "It is a fault on the right side." "Nonsense; I am tired of arguing the point with him. What has money to do in the case? My husband might be as rich as Croesus, or as poor as a church-mouse, but if I liked him I would stick to him all the same. It is wrong pride in a man to let anything stand in the way if he likes a woman; and Langley agrees with me." "Does she?" "Yes; she talks on these sort of subjects so nicely; she is not a bit hard, as Garth is sometimes. He hates flirting and nonsense, and scolds me dreadfully if I make myself too amiable to any masculine individual; but Langley always takes my part, and says I am only a child; oh, she is a darling, or a saint, as Mr. Logan says." "I am sure she is nice," returned Queenie, throwing a little enthusiasm into her voice. Cathy's frankness was embarrassing. That first evening she would have found it impossible to form any true opinion of Miss Clayton; she was attracted and yet repelled by her, fascinated oddly by her voice and manner, and yet pained by a weariness and suppression for which there seemed no words. Was she unhappy or only tired? was her life simply too monotonous for her? had she wider yearnings that stretched out further, and were still unsatisfied? had responsibility and over-much thought for others traced those worn lines, and wrinkled the smooth forehead? Queenie found herself indulging in all manner of conjectures before the evening was over. That she was a woman infinitely loved and respected was plainly evident. Langley's opinion, Langley's sympathy, were always claimed, and never in vain; the same patient attention, the same ready help, were given to all. She talked largely and well, and with a certain originality that made her an interesting companion; and there was a breadth and large-mindedness about her views that appealed strongly to Queenie's admiration.