pardonable irritation. "Why do you bring people to dinner in this
promiscuous way? It will quite upset the table. Just fancy asking an old
Welsh clergyman to dine, who has not the slightest pretensions to being
a gentleman, when one has the Prime Minister and a Bishop coming--and a
clergyman without dress clothes too. What has he come for?"

"He came to see me on business, and as to the people coming to dinner,
if they don't like it they can grumble when they go home. By the way,
Honoria, I am going down to Wales for a day or two to-morrow. I want a
change."

"Indeed! Going to see the lovely Beatrice, I suppose. You had better be
careful, Geoffrey. That girl will get you into a mess, and if she does
there are plenty of people who are ready to make an example of you. You
have enemies enough, I can tell you. I am not jealous, it is not in my
line, but you are too intimate with that girl, and you will be sorry for
it one day."

"Nonsense," said Geoffrey angrily, but nevertheless he felt that Lady
Honoria's words were words of truth. It struck him, moreover, that she
must feel this strongly, or she would not have spoken in that tone.
Honoria did not pose as a household philosopher. Still he would not draw
back now. His heart was set on seeing Beatrice.

"Am I to understand," went on his wife, "that you still object to my
staying with the Garsingtons? I think it is a little hard if I do not
make a fuss about your going to see your village paragon, that you
should refuse to allow me to visit my own brother."

Geoffrey felt that he was being bargained with. It was degrading, but in
the extremity of his folly he yielded.

"Go if you like," he said shortly, "but if you take Effie, mind she is
properly looked after, that is all," and he abruptly left the room.

Lady Honoria looked after him, slowly nodding her handsome head. "Ah,"
she said to herself, "I have found out how to manage you now. You
have your weak point like other people, Master Geoffrey--and it spells
Beatrice. Only you must not go too far. I am not jealous, but I am not
going to have a scandal for fifty Beatrices. I will not allow you to
lose your reputation and position. Just imagine a man like that pining
for a village girl--she is nothing more! And they talk about his being
so clever. Well, he always liked ladies' society; that is his failing,
and now he has burnt his fingers. They all do sooner or later,
especially these clever men. The women flatter the