CHAPTER XXI.
DANGEROUS RELICS 'Beatrice is coming to act as my secretary this morning,' Wilfrid said to his father, as they sat at breakfast on Monday.
'Is she ?' remarked Mr.Athel, drily.

'It had struck me that you were not very busy just now,' he added, by way of natural comment.
The junior smiled.
'By the way, she has only two more engagements--then it ceases.' 'I am glad to hear it,' said his father, with much satisfaction.
'After all,' observed Wilfrid, 'you must remember that everyone knows she doesn't sing for a living.

Art, you know, is only contemptible when it supports the artist.' 'Well, well, file your epigrams by all means; but we live in the world, Wilf.

Criticise as smartly as you like; the danger only begins when you act upon your convictions.' At half-past ten Beatrice arrived.

She came into the study with a morning colour on her cheeks, threw off her mantle and hat, and let Wilfrid draw off her gloves, which somehow took a long time in the doing.