“The lady? So far as I can make out she is living here with some friends, up in the district called the Parks, where a great many people now live. She says she has always taken an interest in the undergraduates, who are left so sadly to themselves, and that, being of an age to make it possible, she has wished very much to devote herself to do what she could for these boys. Unfortunately, with her unusual personal attractions----.” The Colonel stopped short and bit his moustache. “After all her kindness to your brother, encouraging him in his work and setting his duty before him--and no elder sister, no mother, could have been kinder, from all she tells me--the foolish boy repaid her good offices by--what do you think? But you will never guess.” “And I will never, never believe it,” cried Bee, “if it was anything--anything that was not nice on Charlie’s part!” Her voice was quite hoarse in her emotion, her secret fury against this woman, of whom she knew nothing, rising more and more. “You little fool!” her father said, rising and standing up against the mantel-piece. He laughed angrily, and looked at her with his most contemptuous air. “One would think that even in their cradles women must begin to hate women,” he said. Bee, who hated no one unless it was this woman whom she feared but did not know, grew angry red. Her blue eyes flashed and shone like northern lights. The cruel and contemptuous assumption which touched her pride of sex, added vehemence to the other emotion which was already strong enough, and roused her up into a kind of fury. “If she says anything bad of Charlie I don’t believe it,” she cried, “not a word, not a word! Whatever he has done she has driven him to it!” Then Bee was suddenly silent, panting, terrified or afraid that her little outburst of passion would close all further revelations. “It seems unnecessary to add another word in face of such fierce prejudice!” “Oh, papa, forgive me. Tell me; I shall say nothing more.” “You have said a great deal too much already. After this,” he said, sarcastically, “you will perhaps think that your brother--of three and twenty, without a penny or a prospect--did Miss Lance honour by forcing a proposal upon her, making love to her at the end of all----” “Miss Lance!” Bee said, with a sharp cry. The Colonel took no notice of the interruption. He went on with a kind of disdainful comment to himself rather than to her. “After all, there are things which a lady has to put up with, which we don’t take into consideration. A young fool whom she has been kind to, knowing he has nobody near to look after him, no mother”--his voice even grew a little tender at this point--“and by way of reward the idiot falls in love with her, asks a woman like that to share his insignificant little life! Jove! What a piece of impertinence!” the Colonel said, with an angry laugh. “Did you say,” said Bee, with faltering lips, “Miss Lance, papa?” He turned upon her with a look of extreme surprise.