A Prince of Sinners | Page 4

Radical committee. "Poor Morrison was past the job. It
was partly through his muddling that we lost the seat at the last election.
I'd made up my mind to have a change this time, and so I told 'em."
Brooks was tired of politics, and he looked across the table. This pale
girl with the tired eyes and self-contained manner interested him. The
difference, too, between her and the rest of the family was puzzling.
"I believe, Miss Scott," he said, "that I met you at the Stuarts' dance."
"I was there," she admitted. "I don't think I danced with you, but we
had supper at the same table."
"I remember it perfectly," he said. "Wasn't it supposed to be a very
good dance?"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"I believe so," she answered. "There was the usual fault--too many girls.
But it was very pretty to watch."
"You do not care for dancing, yourself, perhaps?" he hazarded.
"Indeed I do," she declared. "But I knew scarcely any one there. I see a
good deal of Kate sometimes, but the others I scarcely know at all."
"You were in the same position as I was, then," he answered, smiling.
"Oh, you--you are different," she remarked. "I mean that you are a man,
and at a dance that means everything. That is why I rather dislike
dances. We are too dependent upon you. If you would only let us dance
alone."
Selina smiled in a superior manner. She would have given a good deal
to have been invited to the dance in question, but that was a matter
which she did not think it worth while to mention.

"My dear Mary!" she said, "what an idea. I am quite sure that when you
go out with us you need never have any difficulty about partners."
"Our programmes for the Liberal Club Dance and the County Cricket
Ball were full before we had been in the room five minutes," Louise
interposed.
Mary smiled inwardly, but said nothing, and Brooks was quite sure
then that she was different. He realized too that her teeth were perfect,
and her complexion, notwithstanding its pallor, was faultless. She
would have been strikingly good-looking but for her mouth, and
that--was it a discontented or a supercilious curl? At any rate it
disappeared when she smiled.
"May I ask whether you have been attending a political meeting this
evening, Miss Scott?" he asked. "You came in after us, I think."
She shook her head.
"No, I have a class on Wednesday evening."
"A class!" he repeated, doubtfully.
Mr. Bullsom, who thought he had been out of the conversation long
enough, interposed.
"Mary calls herself a bit of a philanthropist, you see, Mr. Brooks," he
explained. "Goes down into Medchester and teaches factory girls to
play the piano on Wednesday evenings. Much good may it do them."
There was a curious gleam in the girl's eyes for a moment which
checked the words on Brooks' lips, and led him to precipitately
abandon the conversation. But afterwards, while Selina was pedalling
at the pianola and playing havoc with the expression-stops, he crossed
the room and stood for a moment by her chair.
"I should like you to tell me about your class," he said. "I have several
myself--of different sorts."

She closed her magazine, but left her finger in the place.
"Oh, mine is a very unambitious undertaking," she said. "Kate Stuart
and I started it for the girls in her father's factory, and we aim at
nothing higher than an attempt to direct their taste in fiction. They
bring their Free Library lists to us, and we mark them together. Then
we all read one more serious book at the same time--history or
biography--and talk about it when we meet."
"It is an excellent idea," he said, earnestly. "By the bye, something
occurs to me. You know, or rather you don't know, that I give free
lectures on certain books or any simple literary subject on Wednesday
evenings at the Secular Hall when this electioneering isn't on. Couldn't
you bring your girls one evening? I would be guided in my choice of a
subject by you."
"Yes, I should like that," she answered, "and I think the girls would. It
is very good of you to suggest it."
Louise, with a great book under her arm, deposited her dumpy person
in a seat by his side, and looked up at him with a smile of engaging
candour.
"Mr. Brooks," she said, "I am going to do a terrible thing. I am going to
show you some of my sketches and ask your opinion."
Brooks turned towards her without undue enthusiasm.
"It is very good of you, Miss Bullsom," he said, doubtfully; "but I never
drew a straight line in my life, and