at it is worth. I
don't vouch for the truth of a single item. For all we can tell, nice,
kind friends may be recounting kindred anecdotes of Alicia and the
blameless Winterbotham, or even of you, Louisa, and Mr. Barking."

Mr. Quayle fixed a glance of surpassing graciousness upon his sister as
he uttered these agreeable suggestions, and fervid curiosity alone
enabled her to resist a rejoinder and to maintain a dignified silence.

"It is said--and this probably is true--that she never cared two straws
for de Vallorbes, but was jockeyed in the marriage--just as you might
jockey Constance, you know, Louisa--by her mother, who has the
reputation of being a somewhat frisky matron with a keen eye to the
main chance. She is not quite all, I understand, a tender heart could
desire in the way of a parent. It is further said that _la belle
Helene_ makes the dollars fly even more freely than did de Vallorbes in
his best days, and he has the credit of having been something of a
_viveur_. He knew not only his Paris, but his Baden-Baden, and his
Naples, and various other warm corners where great and good men do
commonly congregate. It is added that _la belle Helene_ already gives
promise of being playful in other ways beside that of expenditure. And
that de Vallorbes has been heard to lament openly that he is not a
native of some enlightened country in which the divorce court
charitably intervenes to sever overhard connubial knots. In short, it
is rumoured that de Vallorbes is not a conspicuous example of the
wildly happy husband."

"In short, she is not respec----"

But the young man held up his hands and cried out feelingly:--

"Don't, pray don't, my dear Louisa. Let us walk delicately as Agag--my
father's morning ministrations to the maids again! For how, as I
pointed out just now, do we know what insidious little tales may not be
in circulation regarding yourself and those nearest and dearest to
you?"

Ludovic Quayle turned his head and once again looked out of the window,
his beautiful mouth visited by a slightly malicious smile. The train
was sliding onward above crowded, sordid courts and narrow alleys,
festering, as it seemed, with a very plague of poverty-stricken and
unwholesome humanity. Here the line runs parallel to the river--sullen
to-day, blotted with black floats and lines of grimy barges, which
straining, smoke-vomiting steam-tugs towed slowly against a strong
flowing tide. On the opposite bank the heavy mass