to get rid of her. He
wanted to see what she intended to do--to see the thing out, in fact. It
amused him to hear that Mount Dunstan was on her track. There exists
for persons of a certain type a pleasure full-fed by the mere sense of
having "got even" with an opponent. Throughout his life he had made
a point of "getting even" with those who had irritatingly crossed his
path, or much disliked him. The working out of small or large plans to
achieve this end had formed one of his most agreeable recreations. He
had long owed Mount Dunstan a debt, which he had always meant to pay. He
had not intended to forget the episode of the nice little village girl
with whom Tenham and himself had been getting along so enormously well,
when the raging young ass had found them out, and made an absurdly
exaggerated scene, even going so far as threatening to smash the pair of
them, marching off to the father and mother, and setting the vicar on,
and then scratching together--God knows how--money enough to pack the
lot off to America, where they had since done well. Why should a man
forgive another who had made him look like a schoolboy and a fool? So,
to find Mount Dunstan rushing down a steep hill into this thing, was
edifying. You cannot take much out of a man if you never encounter him.
If you meet him, you are provided by Heaven with opportunities. You can
find out what he feels most sharply, and what he will suffer most by
being deprived of. His impression was that there was a good deal to be
got out of Mount Dunstan. He was an obstinate, haughty devil, and just
the fellow to conceal with a fury of pride a score of tender places in
his hide.

At the ball he had seen that the girl's effect had been of a kind which
even money and good looks uncombined with another thing might not
have produced. And she had the other thing--whatsoever it might be. He
observed the way in which the Dunholms met and greeted her, he marked
the glance of the royal personage, and his manner, when after her
presentation he conversed with and detained her, he saw the turning
of heads and exchange of remarks as she moved through the rooms. Most
especially, he took in the bearing of the very grand old ladies, led
by Lady Alanby of Dole. Barriers had thrown themselves down, these
portentous, rigorous old pussycats admired her, even liked her.

"Upon my word," he said to himself. "She has a way with her, you know.
She is a combination of Ethel Newcome and Becky S