She hesitated for a moment, and then stopped shyly. He could see that the girl was afraid of boring him. A moment before, she had been perfectly collected and aware--a girl in his own rank of life responsive to his chaff. Now she realised that she was speaking of things very near and dear to her--and speaking of them to a high-priest of those Mysteries she loved--one holding keys to unlock all doors. He took her in a moment, understood the change of mood and expression, and it was subtle flattery. Like all intelligent and successful men, recognition was not the least of his rewards. That this engaging child, even, knew him for what he was gave him an added interest in her. All Muriel's girl friends adored him. He was the nicest and most generous of unofficial Papas!--but this was different. "Don't say that, my dear. Never depreciate yourself or belittle what you have done. I suppose you are about Muriel's age, twenty-one or two--yes?--then let me tell you that you have done excellently well." "That is kind of you." "No, it is sincere. No man knows how hard--or how easy--it is to succeed by writing to-day." She understood him in a moment. "Only the other day, Mr. Amberley," she said, "I read Stevenson's 'Letter to a young gentleman who proposes to embrace the career of Art.' And if I _could_ write feeble things to tickle feeble minds I wouldn't even try. It seems so, so low!" Quite unconsciously her eye had fallen upon Mrs. Toftrees opposite, who was again chattering away to Muriel Amberley. He saw it, but gave no sign that he had done so. "Keep such an ideal, my dear. Whether you do small or great things, it will bring you peace of mind and dignity of conscience. But don't despise or condemn merely popular writers. In the Kingdom of Art there are many mansions you know." The girl made a slight movement of the head. He saw that she was touched and grateful at his interest in her small affairs, but that she wanted to dismiss them from his mind no less than from her own. "But I _am_ mad, crazy," she said, "about _other_ peoples' work, the big peoples' work, the work one simply can't help reverencing!" She had turned from him again and was looking down the table to where Gilbert Lothian was sitting. "Yes," he answered, following the direction of her glance, "you are quite right _there_!" She flushed with enthusiasm. "I did so want to see him," she said. "I've hardly ever met any literary people at all before, certainly never any one who mattered. Muriel told me that Mr. Lothian was coming; she loves his poems as much as I do. And when she wrote and asked me I was terribly excited. It's so good of you to have me, Mr. Amberley." Her voice was touching in its gratitude, and he was touched at this damsel, so pretty, courageous and forlorn. "I hope, my dear," he said, "that you will give us all the pleasure of seeing you here very often."