being sunburnt. Moreover, as Lawrence well knew, there is a quality of healthy complexion which tans to a golden brown, very becoming when the grey eyes have dark lashes, but less so when, as in Fanny Trehearne's case, the lashes and brows are much lighter than the hair—almost white, in fact. It is not certain whether the majority of human noses turn up or down. There was, however, no doubt but that Fanny's turned up. It was also apparent that she had decidedly high cheek bones, a square jaw, and a large mouth, with lips much too even and too little curved for beauty. After all, her best points were perhaps her eyes, her golden-brown complexion, and her crisp, reddish brown hair, which twisted itself into sharp little curls wherever it was not long enough to be smoothed. With a little more regularity of feature, Fanny Trehearne might have been called a milkmaid beauty, so far as her face was concerned. Fortunately for her, her looks were above or below such faint praise. It was doubtful whether she would be said to have charm, but she had individuality, since those terms are in common use to express gifts which escape definition. 

 A short silence followed her somewhat indignant speech. Then, the road being still clear before her, she turned and looked at Lawrence. It was not a mere glance of enquiry, it was certainly not a tender glance, but her eyes lingered with his for a moment. 

 "Look here—are we going to quarrel?" she asked. 

 "Is there any reason why we should?" Lawrence smiled. 

 "Not if we agree," answered the young girl, gravely, as she turned her head from him again. 

 "That means that we shan't quarrel if I agree with you, I suppose," observed the young man. 

 "Well, why shouldn't you?" asked Fanny, frankly.  "You may just as well, you know. You will in the end." 

 "By Jove! You seem pretty sure of that!" Lawrence laughed. 

 Fanny said nothing in reply, but shortened the reins as the horses reached the top of the hill. Lawrence looked down towards the sea. The sun was very low, and the water was turning from sapphire to amaranth, while the dark islands gathered gold into their green depths. 

 "How beautiful it is!" exclaimed the artist, not exactly from impulse, though in real enjoyment, while 

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