e news of his approaching
marriage. While the girl had been removing her hat and jacket he had sat
at the piano and thumbed it, hardly knowing how to begin. All at once he
had said, "Do you know, my dear, I'm to be married on Saturday?" She had
said nothing at first, and he had played the piano furiously. Heavens,
what a frame of mind to be in! Why didn't the girl speak? At last he had
looked round at her, and there she stood grinning, gasping, and white as
a ghost. Suddenly she had begun to cry. Good God, such crying! Yes, it
was all over. Everything had been settled somehow.

"But I'll be in harder condition before I tackle such a job again."

There was silence for a moment. Drake was leaning on the mantelpiece, his
legs crossed, and one foot beating on the hearth-rug. The men were
ashamed, and they began to talk of indifferent things. Smoke? Didn't
mind. Those Indian cigars were good. Not bad, certainly.

At length Drake said in a different voice, "Cruel but necessary,
Robert--necessary to the woman who is going to be your wife, cruel to the
poor girl who has been."

Lord Robert rose to his feet impatiently, stretched his arm, and shot out
his striped cuff and walked to and fro across the room.

"Pon my soul, I believe I should have stuck to the little thing but for
the old girl, don't you know. She's made such a good social running
lately--and then she's started this evangelical craze too. No, Polly
wouldn't have suited her book anyhow."

Silence again, and then further talk on indifferent things.

"Wish Benson wouldn't sweep the soda water off the table." "Ring for it."
"The little thing really cares for me, don't you know. And it isn't my
fault, is it? I had to hedge. Frank, dear boy, you're always taunting me
with the treadmill we have to turn for the sake of society, and so forth,
but with debts about a man's neck like a millstone, what could one
do----"

"I don't mean that you're worse than others, old fellow, or that
sacrificing this one poor child is going to mend matters much----"

"No, it isn't likely to improve my style of going, is it?"

"But that man John Storm was not so far wrong, after all, and for this
polygamy of our 'lavender-glove tribe' the nation itself will be
overtaken by the judgment of God one of these days."

Lord Robert broke into a peal of derisive laughter. "Go on," he cried.
"Go on, dear boy! It's funny to hear you, though--after to-day's
proceedings too"; and he glanced sig