season, and that Stephen might have chosen to do likewise.

They did little besides chat that evening, Mr. Swancourt beginning
to question his visitor, closely yet paternally, and in good part,
on his hopes and prospects from the profession he had embraced.
Stephen gave vague answers. The next day it rained. In the
evening, when twenty-four hours of Elfride had completely
rekindled her admirer's ardour, a game of chess was proposed
between them.

The game had its value in helping on the developments of their
future.

Elfride soon perceived that her opponent was but a learner. She
next noticed that he had a very odd way of handling the pieces
when castling or taking a man. Antecedently she would have
supposed that the same performance must be gone through by all
players in the same manner; she was taught by his differing action
that all ordinary players, who learn the game by sight,
unconsciously touch the men in a stereotyped way. This impression
of indescribable oddness in Stephen's touch culminated in speech
when she saw him, at the taking of one of her bishops, push it
aside with the taking man instead of lifting it as a preliminary
to the move.

'How strangely you handle the men, Mr. Smith!'

'Do I? I am sorry for that.'

'Oh no--don't be sorry; it is not a matter great enough for