others are positively _wicked_! I admit
most of the men have nice manners and the women are not stupid. They all
dress well."

Nigel was silent a moment.

"Well, after all, if you don't like them, why should you see them?" he
said, good-naturedly enough. He did not feel inclined to defend all his
acquaintances. "But may I ask, do you consider that this set, as you
call it, lead a _useless_ life?"

"Yes; of course I do."

"Oh! Good. That's all I wanted to know."

"I see what you mean quite well," she said, walking up and down the
room. "You think _I_ lead a useless life--that I'm not accomplished or
literary or even domestic, or social. You think I lead an empty life
with all my money."

"Well, why shouldn't you, if you like it? But I wish you enjoyed it
yourself more, that's the point."

"I can never enjoy myself--if you want to know, Nigel--except when I'm
with you; and even then I'm often not happy, because I think you don't
care to be with me."

"Oh, Mary! really! How awful you are! What rot all this is! I can't say
more than that you can do whatever you like from morning to night, and
that I don't wish to interfere with you in any possible way."

"But I should like you to be _with_ me more."

He restrained the obvious retort (that she didn't make herself
agreeable).

"Well, I _am_ with you." He humoured her gently.

"Yes--at this moment."

"Aren't we going to dine together?"

"Yes, we are. But about an hour afterwards I know you'll find some sort
of excuse either to go out, or to go into the library and read. Why
can't you read while I'm looking at you? Why not?"

"Don't be always looking forward, meeting troubles half way," he said
jokingly. "Perhaps I sha'n't read." Then, after a moment's pause:
"Excuse my saying so, my dear, but if _you_ sometimes read a book, or
the papers, or saw more people, you would have more to tell me when we
did meet, wouldn't you?"

"It doesn't matter about that. You can tell me what you've been reading
or seeing. Who did you see at the picture gallery? Was Mrs. Kellynch
there?"

"Look here"--he was looking at the paper--"would you like to go to the
opera after dinner? Let's go one of these days soon."

"No; I shouldn't like it at all."

He stared at her in surprise.

"Why not, pray? I thought you enjoyed it the other night?"

"_You_ enjoyed it," she replied.

"I thought you seemed rather pleased with yourself when we went out,
with all your furs and tiara