has Mallard got to say to that?' he asked me
aside. I answered that it met with your husband's entire approval.
'Well,' he said, 'I feel that I can't keep up with the world; in my
day, you didn't begin married life by giving away half your income. It
caps me, but no doubt it's all right.' Mrs. Bradshaw by-the-bye, shakes
her head whenever you are mentioned.

"You will like to hear of Mr. and Mrs. Marsh. Charlotte is excessively
plain, and I am afraid excessively dull, but it is satisfactory to see
that she regards her husband as a superior being, not to be spoken of
save with bated breath. Mr. Marsh is rather too stout for his years,
and I should think very self-indulgent; whenever his wife looks at him,
he unconsciously falls into the attitude of one who is accustomed to
snuff incense. He speaks of 'my Bohemian years' with a certain pride,
wishing one to understand that he was a wild, reckless youth, and that
his present profound knowledge of the world is the result of
experiences which do not fall to the lot of common men. With Cecily he
was superbly gracious--talked to her of art in a large, fluent way, the
memory of which will supply Edward with mirth for some few weeks. The
odd thing is that his father-in-law seems more than half to believe in
him."

Time went on. Cecily's letters to her friends in England grew rare.
Writing to Eleanor early in the spring, she mentioned that Irene Delph,
who had been in Paris since Mrs. Lessingham's death, was giving her
lessons in painting, but said she doubted whether this was anything
better than a way of killing time. "You know Mr. Seaborne is here?" she
added. "I have met him two or three times at Madame Courbet's, whom I
was surprised to find he has known for several years. She translated
his book on the revolutions of '48 into French."

Never a word now of Elgar. The Spences noted this cheerlessly, and
could not but remark a bitterness that here and there revealed itself
in her short, dry letters. To Miriam she wrote only in the form of
replies, rarely even alluding to her own affairs, but always with
affectionate interest in those of her correspondent.

Another autumn came, and Cecily at length was mute; the most pressing
letters obtained no response. Miriam wrote to Reuben, but with the same
result. This silence was unbroken till winter; then, one morning in
November, Eleanor received a note from Cecily, asking her to call as
soon as she was able at an address in the