owing that everywhere in the greatest
town, in the most cosmopolitan community, this would have been the
same.

"The chattering gossips!" he said, as if a club would not have been a
great deal worse, as if indeed his own club, vaguely conscious of a
connection by marriage between him and the dis-Honourable Phil, had not
discussed it all, behind his back, long ago.

But on the whole John was forced not to disapprove. To say that he went
the length of approving would be too much, and to deny that he launched
forth a tremendous letter upon Mrs. Dennistoun, who always bore the
brunt, is more than my conscience would permit. He did do this, throwing
out, as the French say, fire and flame, but a few days after followed it
up by a much milder letter (need I say this was addressed to Elinor?),
allowing that he understood their motives, and that perhaps, from their
own point of view, they were not so very much to blame. "You will find
it very damp, very cold, very different from Windyhill," he said, with a
sort of savage satisfaction. But as it happened to be unusually good
weather among the lakes when his letter came, this dart did not do much
harm. And that John felt the revolution in his habits consequent upon
this move very much, it would be futile to deny. To have nowhere to go
to freely when he pleased from Saturday to Monday (he had at least a
score of places, but none like the Cottage) made a wonderful difference
in his life. But perhaps when he came to think of it soberly, as he did
so often in the brilliant Saturday afternoons of early summer, when the
sunshine on the trees made his heart a little sick with the idea that he
had, as he said to himself, nowhere to go to, he was not sure that the
difference was not on the whole to his advantage. A man perhaps should
not have it in his power to enjoy, in the most fraternal intimacy, the
society of another man's wife whenever he pleased, even if to her he
was, as he knew, of as little importance (notwithstanding that she was,
as she would have said, so fond of John) as the postman, say, or any
other secondary (yet sufficiently interesting) figure in the country
neighbourhood. John knew in his heart of hearts that this was not a
good thing nor a wholesome thing for him. He was not a man, as has been
said, who would ever have hurried events, or insisted upon appropriating
a woman, even when he loved her, and securing her as his very own. He
would always have been able to put