fashion had decided that such a catastrophe would be profitable for the
insurance agents, as well as for herself. Trying for the dressmakers,
of course, but then dressmakers spent their lives in being trying to
other people. Let them take their turn!

This morning, however, Grizel was oblivious of the villas, she was
peering into Mrs Evans's large face, and saying tentatively:

"You stopped me... Why shouldn't I say it? If I don't think Miss
Mallison _is_ the right girl, why mayn't I--"

"These things get repeated. One can't be too careful. I make it a rule
to be silent, if I find myself unable to say what is agreeable."

"How dull you would be! I say _would_, because it isn't true. You're
scolding me now, and I'm sure that's not agreeable! Dear Mrs Evans, do
you think it is a suitable engagement?"

"Dear Mrs Beverley, how can I judge? Can anyone in the world decide
whom a man or a woman will choose?"

"They can't, but they can guess pretty well whom they _won't_! You know
them both, Captain Peignton and Miss Mallison; can you imagine them
living together, and being satisfied all their lives?"

The older woman looked at the bride in silence. Hundreds of couples had
she seen kneeling hand in hand in the chancel of the church, cheerfully
plighting a troth which bound them together till death should them part,
and of how many could it be said that they were satisfied! She knew too
well into what a prosaic compromise the lives of many of these lovers
degenerated, but she would have felt it a sacrilege to say as much to
this bride of the happy eyes, and the gay, unclouded heart.

"My dear," she said slowly, "if they think so themselves, it's not my
place to judge. It often puzzles one to understand why people choose
one another, but I am a strong believer in nature! Nature is always
working out her own great plan, and she dictates for the good of the
race. You see it all around--the dark chooses the light, the tall
chooses the short, the fat chooses the thin, the brilliant woman marries
a sportsman, the man of letters a gentle house-frau. Nature has
dictated in this case. Captain Peignton is not too strong, and his
nerves have been taxed: Teresa doesn't know what nerves are. I never
knew a more healthy, normal girl."

"Mrs Evans, you have known her for ages. Do _you_ think she is
interesting?"

But Mrs Evans was not to be trapped into personal expressions of
feeling.

"It is quite immaterial