in the wrong, always put themselves right
by finding fault with the people against whom they have sinned. Lady
De Courcy was a wise woman, and therefore, having treated Miss Thorne
very badly by staying away till three o'clock, she assumed the
offensive and attacked Mr. Thorne's roads. Her daughter, not less
wise, attacked Miss Thorne's early hours. The art of doing this
is among the most precious of those usually cultivated by persons
who know how to live. There is no withstanding it. Who can go
systematically to work and, having done battle with the primary
accusation and settled that, then bring forward a countercharge and
support that also? Life is not long enough for such labours. A man
in the right relies easily on his rectitude and therefore goes about
unarmed. His very strength is his weakness. A man in the wrong knows
that he must look to his weapons; his very weakness is his strength.
The one is never prepared for combat, the other is always ready.
Therefore it is that in this world the man that is in the wrong almost
invariably conquers the man that is in the right, and invariably
despises him.

A man must be an idiot or else an angel who, after the age of forty,
shall attempt to be just to his neighbours. Many like the Lady
Margaretta have learnt their lesson at a much earlier age. But this
of course depends on the school in which they have been taught.

Poor Miss Thorne was altogether overcome. She knew very well that
she had been ill-treated, and yet she found herself making apologies
to Lady De Courcy. To do her ladyship justice, she received them very
graciously, and allowed herself, with her train of daughters, to be
led towards the lawn.

There were two windows in the drawing-room wide open for the countess
to pass through, but she saw that there was a woman on a sofa, at
the third window, and that that woman had, as it were, a following
attached to her. Her ladyship therefore determined to investigate
the woman. The De Courcy's were hereditarily shortsighted, and had
been so for thirty centuries at least. So Lady De Courcy, who when
she entered the family had adopted the family habits, did as her son
had done before her and, taking her glass to investigate the Signora
Neroni, pressed in among the gentlemen who surrounded the couch, and
bowed slightly to those whom she chose to honour by her acquaintance.

In order to get to the window she had to pass close to the front of
the couch, and as she di