objected to losing him, but Lady
Malloring had, of course, not given way, and if he persisted he would
get put out. All the cottages about there were Sir Gerald Malloring's,
so that in both cases it would mean leaving the neighborhood. In regard
to village morality, as Felix knew, the line must be drawn somewhere.

Felix interrupted quietly:

"I draw it at Lady Malloring."

"Well, I won't argue that with you. But it really is a scandal that
Tod's wife should incite her young people to stir up the villagers.
Goodness knows where that mayn't lead! Tod's cottage and land, you see,
are freehold, the only freehold thereabouts; and his being a brother of
Stanley's makes it particularly awkward for the Mallorings."

"Quite so!" murmured Felix.

"Yes, but my dear Felix, when it comes to infecting those simple people
with inflated ideas of their rights, it's serious, especially in the
country. I'm told there's really quite a violent feeling. I hear from
Alice Gaunt that the young Tods have been going about saying that dogs
are better off than people treated in this fashion, which, of course, is
all nonsense, and making far too much of a small matter. Don't you think
so?"

But Felix only smiled his peculiar, sweetish smile, and answered:

"I'm glad to have come down just now."

Clara, who did not know that when Felix smiled like that he was angry,
agreed.

"Yes," she said; "you're an observer. You will see the thing in right
perspective."

"I shall endeavor to. What does Tod say?"

"Oh! Tod never seems to say anything. At least, I never hear of it."

Felix murmured:

"Tod is a well in the desert."

To which deep saying Clara made no reply, not indeed understanding in
the least what it might signify.

That evening, when Alan, having had his fill of billiards, had left the
smoking-room and gone to bed, Felix remarked to Stanley:

"I say, what sort of people are these Mallorings?"

Stanley, who was settling himself for the twenty minutes of whiskey,
potash, and a Review, with which he commonly composed his mind before
retiring, answered negligently:

"The Mallorings? Oh! about the best type of landowner we've got."

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

Stanley took his time to answer, for below his bluff good-nature he
had the tenacious, if somewhat slow, precision of an English man of
business, mingled with a certain mistrust of 'old Felix.'

"Well," he said at last, "they build good cottages, yellow bric