A new thought checked her steps and she froze. Then, when the tension was getting unendurable, and she was on the verge of speaking to some casual passer-by and demanding help, her follower vanished. She took up a book and threw it down again. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. "Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. The future Mrs Roding turned bright, laughing eyes on the major. Not the explosive vigour of the north-born, but that which would quietly meet physical hardships and bear them triumphantly. Manning regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and stroked his mustache.
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