e you have had the best of it. She
is married to a stiff prig of a fellow, who no doubt will make her
miserable. Surely that ought to be enough for you."

"Not quite," said Sir Francis. "There is nothing recommends itself
to my mind so much as even-handed justice. He played me a trick once,
and I'll play him another. She too played me a trick, and now I can
play her one. My good fortune consists in this, that I can kill the
two birds with one stone."

"You mean to kill them?"

"Certainly I do. Why on earth should I let them off? He did not let
me off. Nor did she. They think because I carry things in an easy
manner that I take them easily. I suffer as much as they do. But they
shall suffer as well as I."

"The most pernicious doctrine I ever heard in my life," said Dick
Ross as he filled his mouth with cold chicken pie.

"When you say pernicious, have you any idea what you mean?"

"Well, yes; awfully savage, and all that kind of thing. Just utter
cruelty, and a bad spirit."

"Those are your ideas because you don't take the trouble to return
evil for evil. But then you never take the trouble to return good
for good. In fact, you have no idea of duty, only you don't like to
burden your conscience with doing what seems to be ill-natured. Now,
if a man does me good, I return it,--which I deem to be a great duty,
and if he does me evil, I generally return that sooner or later.
There is some idea of justice in my conduct, but there is none in
yours."

"Do you mean to punish them both?"

"Well, yes; as far as it is in my power, both."

"Don't," said Dick Ross, looking up with something like real sorrow
depicted on his face. But still he called for some greengage tart.

"I like to get the better of my enemies," said the Baronet. "You
like fruit pie. I doubt if you'd even give up fruit pie to save this
woman."

"I will," said Dick, pushing the pie away from him.

"The sacrifice would be all in vain. I must write the letter to-day,
and as it has to be thought about I must begin it at once. Whatever
happens, do not let your good nature quarrel with your appetite."

"He's a fiend, a perfect fiend," said Dick Ross, as he sate dawdling
over his cheese. "I wouldn't have his ill-nature for all his money."
But he turned that sentiment over in his mind, endeavouring to
ascertain what he would do if the offer of the exchange were made to
him. For Dick was very poor, and at this moment was in great want
of money. Sir Fra