poor. I may be dangerous to myself, but I'm not so to others; least of all am I so to you." She had a presence that was, in its way, like Tony Bream's: it made, simply and directly, a difference in any personal question exposed to it. Under its action, at all events, Mrs. Beever found herself suddenly feeling that she could after all trust Rose if she could only trust Paul. She glanced at that young man as he lay in the hammock, and saw that in spite of the familiarity of his posture—which indeed might have been assumed with a misleading purpose—his diminished pupils, fixed upon their visitor, still had the expression imparted to them by her own last address. She hesitated; but while she did so Rose came straight up to her and kissed her. It was the very first time, and Mrs. Beever blushed as if one of her secrets had been surprised. Rose explained her impulse only with a smile; but the smile said vividly: "I'll polish him off!"
This brought a response to his mother's lips. "I'll go and inspect the cake!"
Mrs. Beever took her way to the house, and as soon as her back was turned her son got out of the hammock. An observer of the scene would not
