“Come, come, my dear child! that is all nonsense. You must be kind to the poor fellow. Perhaps he will be at the Academy.” “I hope not,” said Marian, quickly. “Why?” “I mean if he cherishes any grudge against me; for he will be very disagreeable.” “A grudge against you! Ah, Marian, how little you understand him! What perverse creatures all you young people are! I must bring about an _éclaircissement_.” “I advise you not to,” said Elinor. “If you succeed, no one will admit that you have done anything; and if you fail, everybody will blame you.” “But there is nothing to be _éclairci_,” said Marian. We are talking nonsense, which is silly——” “And French, which is vulgar,” interposed Miss McQuinch, delivering the remark like a pistol shot at Mrs. Fairfax, who had been trying to convey by facial expression that she pitied the folly of Elinor’s advice, and was scandalized by her presumption in offering it. “It is time to start for the Academy.” When they arrived at Burlington House, Mrs. Fairfax put on her gold rimmed spectacles, and led the way up the stairs like one having important business in a place to which others came for pleasure. When they had passed the turnstiles, Elinor halted, and said: “There is no sort of reason for our pushing through this crowd in a gang of three. Besides, I want to look at the pictures, and not after you to see which way you go. I shall meet you here at six o’clock, sharp. Good-bye.” “What an extraordinary girl!” said Mrs. Fairfax, as Elinor opened her catalogue at the end, and suddenly disappeared to the right amongst the crowd. “She always does so,” said Marian; “and I think she is quite right. Two people cannot make their way about as easily as one; and they never want to see the same pictures.” “But, my dear, consider the impropriety of a young girl walking about by herself.” “Surely there is no impropriety in it. Lots of people—all sensible women do it. Who can tell, in this crowd, whether you are by yourself or not? And what does it matter if——”