Next afternoon, about two o’clock, Alan called with a tremulous heart at the cottage. Herminia had heard not a little of him meanwhile from her friend Mrs Dewsbury. “He’s a charming young man, my dear,” the woman of the world observed with confidence. “I felt quite sure you’d attract one another. He’s so clever and advanced, and everything that’s dreadful—just like yourself, Herminia. But then he’s also very well connected. That’s always something, especially when one’s an oddity. You wouldn’t go down one bit yourself, dear, if you weren’t a dean’s daughter. The shadow of a cathedral steeple covers a multitude of sins. Mr Merrick’s the son of the famous London gout doctor—you _must_ know his name—all the royal dukes flock to him. He’s a barrister himself, and in excellent practice. You might do worse, do you know, than to go in for Alan Merrick.” Herminia’s lip curled an almost imperceptible curl as she answered gravely, “I don’t think you quite understand my plans in life, Mrs Dewsbury. It isn’t my present intention to _go in_ for anybody.” But Mrs Dewsbury shook her head. She knew the world she lived in. “Ah, I’ve heard a great many girls talk like that beforehand,” she answered at once with her society glibness; “but when the right man turned up, they soon forgot their protestations. It makes a lot of difference, dear, when a man really asks you!” Herminia bent her head. “You misunderstand me,” she replied. “I don’t mean to say I will never fall in love. I expect to do that. I look forward to it frankly—it is a woman’s place in life. I only mean to say, I don’t think anything will ever induce me to marry—that is to say, legally.” Mrs Dewsbury gave a start of surprise and horror. She really didn’t know what girls were coming to nowadays—which, considering her first principles, was certainly natural. But if only she had seen the conscious flush with which Herminia received her visitor that afternoon, she would have been confirmed in her belief that Herminia, after all, in spite of her learning, was much like other girls. In which conclusion Mrs Dewsbury would not in the end have been fully justified. When Alan arrived, Herminia sat at the window by the quaintly clipped box-tree, a volume of verse held half closed in her hand, though she was a great deal too honest and transparent to pretend she was reading it. She expected Alan to call, in accordance with his promise, for she had seen at Mrs Dewsbury’s how great an impression she produced upon him; and, having taught herself that it was every true woman’s duty to avoid the affectations and self-deceptions which the rule of man has begotten in women, she didn’t try to conceal from herself the fact that she on her side was by no means without interest in the question how soon he would pay her his promised visit. As he appeared at the rustic gate in the privet hedge, Herminia looked out, and changed colour with pleasure when she saw him push it open.