"Dear Lady Eshurst, wouldn't you like to come and see the houses?" asks she. "I am afraid I must be going home," says old Lady Eshurst. "It is very late; you must forgive my staying so long, but your little friend--by-the-bye, is she a friend or relation?" "A friend!" says Lady Rylton sharply. "Well, she is so entertaining that I could not bear to go away sooner." "Yes--yes; she is very charming," says Lady Rylton, as she hurries Lady Eshurst down the steps that lead to the path below. Good heavens! If she should hear some of Uncle Joe's funny stories! She takes Lady Eshurst visibly in tow, and walks her out of hearing. "What a good seat you must have!" says Mr. Woodleigh presently, who has been dwelling on what Tita has said about her riding. "Oh, pretty well! Everyone should ride," says Tita indifferently. "I despise a man who can't conquer a horse. I," laughing, "never saw the horse that _I_ couldn't conquer." "You? Look at your hands!" says Gower, laughing. "Well, what's the matter with them?" says she. "My cousin, when he was riding, used to say they were made of iron." "Of velvet, rather." "No. He said my heart was made of that." She laughs gaily, and suddenly looking up at Rylton, who is looking down at her, she fixes her eyes on his. She spreads her little hands abroad, brown as berries though they are with exposure to all sorts of weather. They are small brown hands, and very delicately shaped. "They are not so bad after all, are they?" says she. "They are very pretty," smiles Rylton, returning her gaze. Suddenly for the first time it occurs to him that she has a beauty that is all her own. "Oh no! there is nothing pretty about me," says Tita. She gives a sudden shrug of her shoulders. She is still lying on the rug, her face resting on the palms of her hands. Again she lifts her eyes slowly to Rylton; it is an entirely inconsequent glance--a purely idle glance--and yet it suddenly occurs to Mrs. Bethune, watching her narrowly, that there is coquetry in it; undeveloped, certainly, but _there_. She is now a child; but later on? Maurice is smiling back at the child as if amused. Mrs. Bethune lays her hands upon his arm--Lady Rylton has gone away with old Lady Eshurst. "Maurice! there will be just time for a walk before tea," says she in a whisper, her beautiful face uplifted very near to his. Her eyes are full of promise. He turns with her. "Sir Maurice! Sir Maurice!" cries Tita; "remember our match at golf to-morrow!" Sir Maurice looks back. "Mr. Gower and I, against you and Mrs. Bethune. You _do_ remember?" "Yes, and we shall win," says Mrs. Bethune, with a cold smile. "Oh no! don't think it. We shall beat you into a cocked hat!" cries Tita gaily. "Good heavens! how vulgar she is!" says Mrs. Bethune. CHAPTER VII. HOW THE ARGUMENT GROWS HIGHER; AND HOW MARIAN LOSES HER TEMPER, AND HOW MARGARET OBJECTS TO THE RUIN OF ONE YOUNG LIFE.