Wantley's loosely-knit figure, of only medium height, clad in what even she realized were somewhat unconventional clothes for church-going; the short pointed beard (Cecily felt sure that only old gentlemen were entitled to wear beards); the grey eyes twinkling under light eyebrows; the nondescript light-brown hair brushed sleekly across the lined forehead--these did not compose a whole according well with her ideal of young manhood. But, after all, Penelope had declared her cousin to be quite clever enough to be of use to the Settlement. There, as Cecily knew well, even the most unpromising educated human material could almost always be made useful: already, in imagination, she saw Lord Wantley teaching an evening class of youths to draw, for surely Mrs. Robinson had said he was a good artist. As they walked along the path through the pine-wood, the fresh, keen air, the sunlight falling slantwise through the pine-trees, softened the young man's mood. He felt inclined to bless the girl for her silence: inpertinent appreciation of nature was one of the traits he found most odious in those of his young countrywomen with whom fate--and Penelope--had hitherto brought him in contact. Wantley far preferred the honest--but, oh, how rare!--girl Philistines who bluntly avowed themselves blind to the charms of sea, land, and sky. Not that he felt inclined to include Cecily Wake among these. He had seen her face when a sudden bend of the path had revealed the long turning coast-line, and spread the wide seas below them; but she had uttered no exclamation, refrained from trite remark, and so the heart of this rather fantastic young man warmed to her. 'And now,' he said, holding open the wicket-gate which led from the wood to the open stretch of down--'and now that the moment has come to reveal our mutual aversions, I will begin by confessing that quite my pet aversion in life has long been your Settlement.' Then, as his companion only reddened by way of answer, he altered his tone, and added more seriously: 'I esteem all that I have ever heard of Melancthon Robinson. I never saw him, for I was in America both when the marriage and when his death took place, but I have no patience with sham playing at Christian Socialism. Of course, I know that the Melancthon Settlement was but a pioneer of better things, and that it has led the way to the establishment of several more practical undertakings.' (Here Cecily bit her lip.) 'But when I think of all that my uncle--I of course mean Penelope's father--accomplished in the way of really benefiting and bettering the condition of our working people, and that, I imagine, without ever even seeing the East End--when I consider how he would have regarded the Melancthon Settlement----' He smiled a rather ugly smile, but still Cecily Wake made no answer. Nettled by her silence, he added suddenly: 'I will give you an instance of what I mean. You know my cousin Penelope?'