She flung her head back with an air of offended dignity, her eyes flashing at the remembrance of Giddy's stinging phrases. "The impudent little fiend!" mutters Quinton through his teeth. "How dare she?" "Oh, she dares very well. I am in mortal terror of her tongue. We are utterly at the mercy of our friends; these people call themselves friends, though they deal us the bitterest cuts, the cruellest contumely." "How _dare_ she?" he repeats again, a fierce expression clouding his brow. "To attack a poor little thing like you, and for such a reason----" "It is very hard--it made me cry," nodding her head and gazing earnestly upon him. "How bewitching she looks in the slim black robe," he thinks. It clings round her elegant figure, and contrasts with her fair hair and delicate colouring. "What can I do to comfort you?" he says, drawing nearer. "Stay away from Giddy--take my part. Stand up for me when you hear her or Lady MacDonald laughing over Mrs. Roche's relatives." "They would never dream of taking your name in vain while I was there to defend it!" he cries. "Don't you know I would do anything in the world for you? Can't you see how I would willingly be your slave? Will you accept me as such? Use me as you will! When in trouble, call me; I shall be always ready. No woman has ever exercised the influence over me that you have done. I would give my whole life to serve you for a moment--to tie the lace of your shoe--to sit at your feet--and adore----" His lavish devotion pleases Eleanor. A flush of pleasure peeps through the white skin, her eyes droop, her breathing quickens. "I think my life will be better, brighter, nobler, for the knowledge of such unselfish friendship. I can be but a poor friend to you, I am neither influential nor particularly attractive. Only a very simple little woman living very much in herself." "Mr. Roche is a good deal away, isn't he?" "Yes, especially in the day time. I am very lonely sometimes. But how dark it is growing. Shall I ring for a light?" "No," with an imploring gesture, "this is the hour to dream, and to see more clearly into other natures, to reveal secrets that cannot be left unknown for ever." He grasps her hands, and kneeling beside her buries his head in the folds of her long black sleeves. "Oh! love--my love!" he gasps. CHAPTER X. FALSER THAN ALL FANCY FATHOMS. "What are you going to do to-day?" asks Philip, kissing Eleanor before he leaves. "I must run up to town to have my dress fitted," she replies. "What, more new frocks?" "Only a very simple evening rag, dear," speaking nervously. "I am rather anxious about it, because it is the first I have had since my trousseau without Giddy's supervision. She always designs them, and does the talking." "And pockets the commission," said Philip drily. "Do not regret that lost acquaintance, little one. If Mrs. Mounteagle opened your eyes, don't you allow her to shut them again."