"Very well," Mary went on, serene in her victory, "you need not stay any longer. I'll go out and get change, and let you have the sovereign without delay." The woman vanished with a respectful salutation. Mary crossed over to her writing-case. "My education is growing apace," she laughed, "my dearest Connie, will you be so good as to tell me the way to the nearest pawnbroker's?" CHAPTER XLVI. THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE The lights in the great silver candlesticks at the dower house shed a soft radiance over the dinner-table where Lady Dashwood sat alone. It was not yet dark, the saffron glow of the setting sun still struggled with the candles. Most of the dishes had been removed, and little remained but the peaches and the nectarines and the great bloom tinted grapes in the silver baskets. Lady Dashwood sat there alone. She had peeled one of the russet and golden peaches, but the fragrant luscious fruit lay neglected on her plate. Her mind was far away from her surroundings. The peacefulness of the night suited her more or less painful meditations. The same spirit of refinement and rest seemed to brood over the house; it seemed hard to associate a place like that with misery. And, perhaps, on the whole, Lady Dashwood was not altogether unhappy. She had more or less expected Ralph Darnley to dinner, but he had declined at the last moment. He had written to say that he might have the pleasure of coming later, but even as to that he was not quite certain. And so it came about that Lady Dashwood was alone. She had plenty of food for thought. There was yesterday's adventure, for instance, the finding of Mary in that unexpected way, and the visit to Grace Cameron's rooms. Well, Lady Dashwood was not sorry that she had been, she was not sorry either that Mary had made up her mind to try her future in London. In some subtle way Mary had vastly improved. She had always shown a proper affection for Lady Dashwood, she loved her passionately, but she had always been somewhat reserved. She had not thought it right for a Dashwood to be demonstrative like other people. And she had cared very little for the sufferings of other people. And now all this was changed. Mary had made the great discovery that she was only human after all, and had begun to take an interest in sorrow, suffering and gladness, and pleasure. Lady Dashwood was glad of that. Her own life had been one of constant self-repression. Perhaps that was all the more reason why she longed for an open display of affection now. She was pleased to find that Mary was learning her lesson and that Ralph Darnley had been right. Ralph had prophesied from the first that all Mary needed was the fire of adversity to burn the alloy out of her system, and leave nothing but the pure gold behind. And his policy had been wonderfully successful. But how much longer was this to continue? was the question that Lady Dashwood asked herself.