"The young men of the neighbourhood will hardly fill the gap," she said. "Yourself excepted, there is not an idea among them--that is to say, not an idea unconnected with sport. If a girl doesn't care to talk about hunting, shooting, or golf, there is no such thing as conversation for her in Matcham." Before Allan could reply, the drawing-room door was thrown open, and Mrs. Mornington rose to receive a visitor. Her seat in the verandah commanded the drawing-room as well as the garden, and she was always on the alert for arrivals. Allan rose as quickly, expecting to see Miss Vincent. "Mrs. Wornock," announced the butler, with a grand air, perfectly cognizant of the lady's social importance. To Allan the appearance of the lady of Discombe was as startling as if she had lived at the other end of England. And yet Mrs. Mornington had told him that she and Mrs. Wornock exchanged three or four visits in the course of the year. Mrs. Mornington greeted her guest with cordiality, and the two women came out to the verandah together. They offered a striking contrast, and, as types of the sex, were at the opposite poles of woman. One was of the world, worldly, large, strongly built, loud-voiced, resolute, commanding, a woman whose surplus power was accentuated by the petty sphere in which she lived; the other was slender and youthful in figure, with a marked fragility of frame, pale, ethereal, and with a girlish shyness of manner, not wanting in mental power, perhaps, but likely to be thought inferior, from the lack of self-possession and self-esteem. All the social advantages which surrounded Mrs. Wornock of Discombe had been insufficient to give her the self-confidence which is commonly superabundant in the humblest matron who has passed her thirtieth birthday. She gave a little start of surprise at finding Allan in the verandah, but the smile with which she offered him her hand was one of pleasure. She took the seat which Mrs. Mornington offered her--the most comfortable chair in the verandah--and then began to apologize for having taken it. "I'm afraid this is your chair----" "No, no, no. Sit where you are, for goodness' sake!" cried Mrs. Mornington. "I never indulge myself with an easy-chair till my day's work is done. We are going to have our tea out here." The servants were bringing table and tray as she talked. "I'm very glad you came to see me this afternoon, for I dare say my niece will be running in presently--my brother Robert's daughter--and I want you to call upon her. I told you all about her the other day when I was at the Manor." "Would she like me to call, do you think? Of course I will call, if you wish it; but I hardly think she will care." "I know that she will care," replied Mrs. Mornington, busy at the tea-table. "She is not a great performer, but she is almost as enthusiastic about music as you are. She is a Roman, and those old Masses of which you are so fond mean more to her than they do to most of us."