That the girl in whom he felt such a strong interest would not stoop to anything unworthy he felt sure. But that he remembered, with an uneasiness which he could not stay, that singular treatment of her friends the Aldingtons, for whom she had professed so much affection, and yet whom she did not scruple to neglect and even to “cut,” without any apparent reason. And why would she not let him be introduced to old Lady Jennings, when the lady herself had evidently been willing, if not anxious, to know him? Why did such a young woman choose to wrap her doings and her whereabouts in a ridiculous mystery, which could not but be prejudicial both to herself and her young sister? The whole thing was puzzling, irritating, and Gerard could think of nothing else. He would have liked to think of Rachel Davison as he had seen her first, and to honor her for her valiant efforts to restore to her mother and sister the luxurious atmosphere of their old home, all by her own hard work. Now, try as he would to dispel all doubts from his mind, he could not but feel that there was a mystery about her which was disquieting. It was true that this Lady Jennings, with whom she was staying, was a woman with a high and even conspicuous position in the world. Not very rich, she was a great connoisseur and a much sought after hostess, and no girls on the threshold of life could have a better, a shrewder, or a more trustworthy friend. But, on the other hand, Rachel had not been candid or truthful in her statements to him: was it possible that she was equally lacking in candor to others? She had told him that her prosperity was due to “luck,” and had expressly stated that it had “nothing to do with her.” Now her sister had said frankly that this “luck” was due to her sister’s talents and hard work. What did this discrepancy mean? Gerard worried himself unceasingly about this, for he could not get the brilliant and beautiful Miss Davison out of his head. Lilian had said that her sister had a little studio somewhere near Regent Street, where she occupied herself with these wonderful designs which brought her in so handsome an income. Mrs. Davison, she had said, lived at Brighton, and Rachel divided her time between her mother and Lady Jennings, whose address Gerard immediately set himself to discover. It was near Sloane Street, a small house, the position of which suggested a rental quite out of proportion to its small size. Gerard took a walk in that direction, and looked wistfully at the door at which he dared not knock. He felt himself to be growing even dangerously sentimental about this girl, and told himself he was a fool to think of a woman who certainly harbored no thought of him.