entertain him alone. Profound, too, was the journalist's discretion
in regard to all doings down at Wanley. Knowing he had several times
visited the Manor, Alice often sought information from him about her
brother's way of life. Mr. Keene always replied with generalities.
He was a man of humour in his way, and Alice came to regard him with
amusement. Then his extreme respect flattered her; insensibly she
took him for her criterion of gentility in men. He supplied her with
'society' journals, and now and then suggested the new novel that it
behoved her to read. Richard had even withdrawn his opposition to
the theatre-going; about once in three weeks Mr. Keene presented
himself with tickets, and Alice, accompanied by her brother,
accepted his invitation.

He called this Monday evening. Mrs. Mutimer, after spending a day of
fretful misery, had gone to Wilton Square; 'Arry was away at his
classes. Alice was packing certain articles she had purchased in the
afternoon, and had just delighted her soul with the inspection of a
travelling cloak, also bought to-day. When the visitor was
announced, she threw the garment over her shoulders and appeared in
it.

'Does this look nice, do you think?' she asked, after shaking hands
as joyously as her mood dictated.

'About as nice as a perfect thing always does when it's worn by a
perfect woman,' Mr. Keene replied, drawing back and inclining his
body at what he deemed a graceful angle.

'Oh, come, that's too much!' laughed Alice.