Sometimes her mind dwelt on the splendours of the prospect held out before her; splendours which, in her ignorance, she was disposed to exaggerate. Reuben, climbing to those social heights, which for herself she had always deemed inaccessible, Reuben reaching the summit, would find her there before him. That would impress him greatly, she knew. Let this thought be forgiven her; let it be remembered who was her hero, and how little choice there had been for her in the matter of heroes. Yet such are the contradictions of our nature, that had the Admirable Crichton stood before her, Don Quixote, or Sir Galahad himself, I cannot answer for Judith that she would not have turned from them to the mixed, imperfect human creature--Reuben Sachs. So she sat there swaying this way and that, and then the door opened and her mother came in. Mrs. Quixano, we know, was not pleased at heart, but she had become very anxious for the marriage. Judith listened passively as the advantages of her future position were laid before her. Then she made her protest, fully conscious of its weakness. “I do not like Mr. Lee-Harrison.” “Of course not,” said Mrs. Quixano. “I should be sorry to hear that you did. No girl likes her intended--at first.” Judith bowed her head, conscious, ashamed. Only that afternoon Rose had said to her: “We all have to marry the men we don’t care for. I shall, I know, although I have a lot of money. I am not sure that it is not best in the end.” And she sighed, as a red-headed, cousinly vision rose before her mental sight. “You are coming home with me,” went on Mrs. Quixano, “then we can talk it over comfortably. You mustn’t keep the poor man waiting much longer.” Mrs. Leuniger came in as Judith was tying her bonnet strings. “Judith is coming with me,” said her mother. Aunt Ada drifted slowly across the room to where Judith was standing. She looked at her with her miserable eyes, rubbing her hands together as she said: “You had better write to Mr. Lee-Harrison before you go. You won’t get such an opportunity as this every day.” Judith stared at her aunt in a sort of desperation. She, too? Aunt Ada, who all the days of her life had known wealth, splendour, importance, and, as far as could be seen, had never enjoyed an hour’s happiness! She looked at the dejected, untidy figure, with the load of diamonds on the fingers, the rich lace round neck and wrists, the crumpled gown of costly silk. Aunt Ada still believed in these things then; in diamonds, lace and silk? Did not wring her hands and cry, “all is vanity!” Hers was truly an astonishing manifestation of faith. * * * * * Judith sat in her father’s study in the Walterton Road. On the desk before her lay the letter which she had written and sealed to Mr. Lee-Harrison, containing her acceptance of his offer.