Difficulties are not without a certain advantage.
They keep one on the alert."
"Your father," said the girl. "Sir John--he will object."
Jack Meredith reflected for a moment, lazily, with that
leisureliness which gave a sense of repose to his presence.
"Possibly," he admitted gravely.
"He dislikes me," said the girl. "He is one of my failures."
"I did not know you had any. Have you tried? I cannot quite admit
the possibility of failure."
Millicent Chyne smiled. He had emphasised the last remark with
lover-like glance and tone. She was young enough; her own beauty
was new enough to herself to blind her to the possibility mentioned.
She had not even got to the stage of classifying as dull all men who
did not fall in love with her at first sight. It was her first
season, one must remember.
"I have not tried very hard," she said. "But I don't see why I
should not fail."
"That is easily explained."
"Why?"
"No looking-glass about."
She gave a little pout, but she liked it.
The music of the next dance was beginning, and, remembering their
social obligations, they both rose. She laid her hand on his arm,
and for a moment his fingers pressed hers. He smiled down into her
upturned eyes with love, but without passion. He never for a second
risked the "gentleman" and showed the "man.
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