oor, stupid me. But then, you know, Tom's a genius;
that's one thing there's _no_ doubt of!--But you haven't told me yet
where you are."

"You remember Miss Mortimer, of Durnmelling?"

"Quite well, of course."

"She is Mrs. Redmain now: I am with her."

"You don't mean it! Why, Tom knows her very well! He has been several
times to parties at her house."

"And not you, too?" asked Mary.

"Oh, dear, no!" answered Letty, laughing, superior at Mary's ignorance.
"It's not the fashion in London, at least for distinguished persons
like my Tom, to take their wives to parties."

"Are there no ladies at those parties, then?"

"Oh, yes!" replied Letty, smiling again at Mary's ignorance of the
world, "the grandest of ladies--duchesses and all. You don't know what
a favorite Tom is in the highest circles!"

Now Mary could believe almost anything bearing on Tom's being a
favorite, for she herself liked him a great deal more than she approved
of him; but she could not see the sense of his going to parties without
his wife, neither could she see that the _height_ of the circle in
which he was a favorite made any difference. She had old-fashioned
notions of a man and his wife being one flesh, and felt a breach of the
law where they were separated, whatever the custom--reason there could
be none. But Letty seemed much too satisfied to give her any light on
the matter. Did it seem to her so natural that she could not understand
Mary's difficulty? She could not help suspecting, however, that there
might be something in this recurrence of a separation absolute as
death--for was it not a passing of one into a region where the other
could not follow?--to account for the change in her.--The same moment,
as if Letty divined what was passing in Mary's thought, and were not
altogether content with the thing herself, but would gladly justify
what she could not explain, she added, in the tone of an unanswerable
argument:

"Besides, Mary, how could I get a dress fit to wear at such parties?
You wouldn't have me go and look like a beggar! That would be to
disgrace Tom. Everybody in London judges everybody by the clothes she
wears. You should hear Tom's descriptions of the ladies' dresses when
he comes home!"

Mary was on the verge of crying out indignantly, "Then, if he can't
take you, why doesn't he stop at home with you?" but she bethought
herself in time to hold her peace. She settled it with herself,
however, that Tom must have les