There was a new outlook, a new standard by which to measure her fellows, a new philosophy evolved in the space of a second. It was a tremendous upheaval of settled conviction which this tiny apartment witnessed. She was surprised herself at the calmness with which she returned to the drawing-room and joined the party now beginning to assemble. It came as a shock to discover that she was examining her mother with the calm, impartial scrutiny of one who was not in any way associated with her. Mrs. Cathcart observed the girl’s self-possession and felt a twinge of uneasiness. She addressed her unexpectedly, hoping to surprise her to embarrassment, and was a little staggered by the readiness with which the girl met her gaze and the coolness with which she disagreed to some proposition which the elder woman had made. It was a new experience to the masterful Mrs. Cathcart. The girl might be sulking, but this was a new variety of sulks, foreign to Mrs. Cathcart’s experience. She might be angry, yet there was no sign of anger; hurt--she should have been in tears. Mrs. Cathcart’s experienced eye could detect no sign of weeping. She was puzzled, a little alarmed. She had gone too far, she thought, and must conciliate, rather than carry on the feud until the other sued for forgiveness. It irritated her to find herself in this position, but she was a tactician first and foremost, and it would be bad tactics on her part to pursue a disadvantage. Rather she sought the _status quo ante bellum_, and was annoyed to discover that it had gone for ever. She hoped the talk that evening would confuse the girl to the point of seeking her protection; but to her astonishment Edith spoke of her marriage as she had never spoken of it before, without embarrassment, without hesitation, coolly, reasonably, intelligently. The end of the evening found Edith commanding her field and her mother in the position of a suitor. Mrs. Cathcart waited till the last guest had gone, then she came into the smaller drawing-room to find Edith standing in the fireplace, looking thoughtfully at a paper which lay upon the mantleshelf. “What is it interests you so much, dear?” The girl looked round, picked up the paper and folded it slowly. “Nothing particularly,” she said. “Your Dr. Cassylis is an amusing man.” “He is a very clever man,” said her mother tartly. She had infinite faith in doctors, and offered them the tribute which is usually reserved for the supernatural. “Is he?” said the girl coolly. “I suppose he is. Why does he live in Leeds?” “Really, Edith, you are coming out of your shell,” said her mother with a forced smile of admiration. “I have never known you take so much interest in the people of the world before.” “I am going to take a great deal of interest in people,” said the girl steadily. “I have been missing so much all my life.”