His was a well-groomed figure, and save for the weak and sensuous lips, and the prominent eyes with the curious expression, he was, physically, by no means a bad specimen of a young man; but Celia was acutely conscious of the feeling of repulsion, and she quickened her pace.

With his hands still in his pockets, he almost intercepted her.
"Good morning, Miss Grant!" he said, with the free-and-easy manner of a man addressing a dependent.

"First-rate morning, isn't it?
Going for a walk ?" "Yes, my lord," replied Celia, giving him his title with a little emphasis, and speaking coldly, with her eyes fixed on the ground, her hands touching Roddy, who had not offered to go to Lord Heyton, but gazed up at Celia as if he were saying, "I don't like this man.

Let us go for our walk and get away from him." "Not a bad idea, a walk; tip-top morning," said Heyton.

"I'll come with you, if you'll allow me." Celia bit her lip, and flushed angrily; for the request for permission was so evidently a mere matter of form.
"I would rather go alone, my lord," she said.