He only felt that it was a curious, amusing, exciting thought. He was not used to such reflections; and, indeed, had he gone into it with any seriousness, Edgar, who had a natural and instinctive reverence for women, would have been the first to blush at his own superficial mixture of pleased vanity and amusement. But, being fancy free, and feeling the surface of his mind thus lightly rippled by imagination, he could not think of the young women with whom he had been brought into accidental contact since he came home without a certain pleasant emotion. They moved him to a sort of affectionate sentiment which was not in the least love, though, at the same time, it was not the kind of sentiment with which their brothers would have inspired him. Probably he would have been utterly indifferent about their brothers. With a sensation of pleasure and amusement he suffered his thoughts to stray about the subject: but he had not fallen in love. He was as far from that malady as if he had never seen a woman in his life; and, with a smile on his lip, he asked himself how it was that they did not move him simply as men did--or rather, how it was that they affected him so differently? not with passionate or irreverent, far less evil thoughts, but with a soft sense of affectionateness and indulgent friendship, a mingling of personal gratification and liking which was quite distinct from love on the one hand, and, on the other, from any sentiment ever called forth by man. Lady Augusta was at home, with all her girls, but on the eve of starting. They were going to town for the short season, which was all Mr. Thornleigh meant to give them that year. “Don’t you think it is hard,” Gussy said, confidentially, to Edgar, “that because Harry has got into debt we should all be stinted? If any of us girls were to get into debt, I wonder what papa would say. This is the last day of May, and we must be back in July--six weeks; fancy only six weeks in town, or perhaps not quite so much as that.” “But Clare does not go at all,” said Edgar, “and I don’t think she suffers much.” “Oh, Clare! Clare is a great lady, and not dependent upon anybody’s pleasure. When one is mistress of Arden, and has everything one’s own way----” Here, apparently, it occurred to Gussy that she was expressing herself too frankly, for she stopped short, and laughed and blushed. “I mean, when one is one’s own mistress,” she said, “and not one of many, like us girls--it is quite different. If Clare chose to go to Siberia, instead of going to town, I think she would have her way. I am sure you would not oppose.”