nable grounds for pitying his girl. 'I promised
Fredi she should never count a year without Highlands or Alps. You
remember, mama?--down in the West Highlands. Fancy the dear bit of
bundle, Dartrey!--we had laid her in her bed; she was about seven or
eight; and there she lay wide awake. "What 's Fredi thinking of?"--"I'm
thinking of the tops of the mountains at night, dada."--She could climb
them now; she has the legs.'

Nataly said: 'You have some report to make. You dined with those
people?'

'The Marsetts: yes:--well-suited couple enough. It's to happen before
Winter ends--at once; before Christmas; positively before next Spring.
Fredi's doing! He has to manage, arrange.--She's a good-looking woman,
good height, well-rounded; well-behaved, too: she won't make a bad Lady
Marsett. Every time that woman spoke of our girl, the tears jumped to
her eyelids.'

'Come to me before you go to bed,' Nataly said, rising, her voice
foundering; 'Good-night, Dartrey.'

She turned to the door; she could not trust herself to shake hands with
composure. Not only was it a nauseous mixture she was forced to gulp
from Victor, it burned like a poison.

'Really Fredi's doing--chiefly,' said Victor, as soon as Dartrey and he
were alone, comfortably settled in the smoking-room. 'I played the
man of pomp with Marsett--good heavy kind of creature: attached to the
woman. She's the better horse, as far as brains go. Good enough Lady
Marsett. I harped on Major Worrell: my daughter insulted. He knew of
it--spoke of you properly. The man offered all apologies; he has told
the Major he is no gentleman, not a fit associate for gentlemen:--quite
so--and has cut him dead. Will marry her, as I said, make her as worthy
as he can of the honour of my daughter's acquaintance. Rather comical
grimace, when he vowed he'd fasten the tie. He doesn't like marriage.
But, he can't give her up. And she's for patronizing the institution.
But she is ready to say good-bye to him "rather than see the truest
lady in the world insulted"--her words. And so he swallows his dose
for health, and looks a trifle sourish. Antecedents, I suppose: has to
stomach them. But if a man's fond of a woman--if he knows he saves her
from slipping lower--and it's an awful world, for us to let a woman be
under its wheels:--I say, a woman who has a man to lean on, unless she's
as downright corrupt as two or three of the men we've known:--upon my
word, Dartrey, I come round to some of you