ouched, it was
true, larger orbits than the artistic; but it was in this accidental and
transitory fashion, and his accurate knowledge of the world saw in the
nameless and penniless girl the probable bride of some second-rate
artist, some wandering, dishevelled musician, or ill-educated,
ill-regulated poet. Girls like that, who had the aristocrat's assurance
and simplicity and unconsciousness of worldly lore, without the
aristocrat's secure standing in the world, were peculiarly in danger of
sinking below the level of their own type.

He went in to dress. He was dining with the Armytages and after thinking
of Miss Woodruff it was indeed like passing from memories of larch-woods
into the chintzes and metals and potted flowers of the drawing-room to
think of Constance Armytage. Yet Gregory thought of her very contentedly
while he dressed. She was well-dowered, well-educated, well-bred; an
extremely nice and extremely pretty young woman with whom he had danced,
dined and boated frequently during her first two seasons. The Armytages
had a house at Pangbourne and he spent several week-ends with them every
summer. Constance liked him and he liked her. He was not in love with
her; but he wondered if he might not be. To get married to somebody like
Constance seemed the next step in his sensible career. He could see her
established most appropriately in the flat. He could see her beautifully
burnished chestnut hair, her pretty profile and bright blue eyes above
the tea-table; he could see her at the end of the dinner-table presiding
charmingly at a dinner. She would be a charming mother, too; the
children, when babies, would wear blue sashes and would grow up doing
all the proper things at the proper times, from the French _bonne_ and
the German _Fraeulein_ to Eton and Oxford and dances and happy marriages.
She would continue all the traditions of his outer life, would fulfil it
and carry it on peacefully and honourably into the future.

The Armytages lived in a large house in Queen's Gate Gardens. They were
not interesting people, but Gregory liked them none the less for that.
He approved of the Armytage type--the kind, courageous, intolerant old
General who managed to find Gladstone responsible for every misfortune
that befell the Empire--blithe, easy-going Lady Armytage, the two sons
in the army and the son in the navy and the two unmarried girls, of whom
Constance was one and the other still in the school-room. It was a smal