"Jane is a perfect dear, of course, and I know she does a great deal of good down there, but I can't help thinking sometimes that she is a little wasted.

Life must now and then be dreary for her." Tallente seemed for a moment to be looking through the walls of the room.

"We are all made differently.

Lady Jane is very self-reliant and Devonshire is one of those counties which have a curiously strong local hold." "But when her moors and her farms are under snow, and Woolhanger is wreathed in mists, and one hears nothing except the moaning of animals in distress, what about the local attraction then ?" "You speak feelingly," Tallente observed, smiling.

"I spent a fortnight with Jane last winter," she explains.