Whilst May, in her costly gown, sat chafing beneath Mr. Lang's glances of insolent admiration, at her aunt's luxuriously appointed table, Harold and Lulu Inglis were very merry and happy over the plainest fare in his bare sitting-room. They had not met for a long time, and a cheap Whitsuntide excursion was the reason of her presence now. As soon as they had finished, they started for the shore. Sitting on a big stone, beneath the shade of the cliffs, they had a delightful chat, until Lulu suddenly exclaimed: "Oh, Harold! Here's that pretty girl in grey we saw this morning!" Doris, who loved the sea, had coaxed her mother to come down on the shore after the service, and, seeing his companion, May bowed to Harold, and would have passed on, but he detained her. "May I introduce my sister, Miss Lucy Inglis, Mrs. Burnside?" There was something so frank and friendly about Lulu that very soon, as Doris announced she was tired and wanted to rest, they were all seated upon the big stone, upon which Miss Inglis insisted on spreading her jacket, to protect May's dainty dress. Whilst his sister expatiated on the delights of Beachbourne, and wondered why her raptures evoked so little response from the young widow, Harold sat pondering whether he dare invite Mrs. Burnside to come to tea in his bare and shabby rooms. To his delight, she instantly accepted the invitation; eager, in truth, to escape from the hated society of Mr. Lang. Harold then turned to Doris, gaily asking whether she would come too. "Yes, I will," she answered with childish bluntness. "I like you, but I don't like Dr. Ellis--nasty man!--and I hate Mr. Lang." "You shouldn't hate anybody, Doris," reproved May. "But Mr. Lang calls me Little Crosspatch, and it's very rude of him to call me names, mummy." "Bravo, Doris!" cried Lulu mischievously, as they turned to go. "Stick up for your rights--you'll be a 'New Woman' when you grow up." "I hope so," said May, in a low voice, to the amazement of Miss Inglis, who exclaimed, with a glance at the costly equipment of the speaker: "I should never have expected _you_ to utter such a wish, Mrs. Burnside!" May smiled with quiet bitterness. "I have no wish to see Doris speak on a platform, or go in for a man's profession; but I do feel, more and more, that it is better for women to be independent, whether they marry or not." "Why, that's just what I always say!" cried Lulu delightedly. "All women can't marry nowadays--there are not enough men to go round. Besides, what is more contemptible than to see girls sitting idle, with their hands folded, waiting for somebody to come along and marry them? No, every girl ought to be able to earn her own living, and then she's safe, whatever happens!" Needless to say, such maxims would have been entirely abhorrent to Miss Waller, who regarded working-girls with detestation, as May well knew. CHAPTER V. "A Beautiful Anomaly."