hat this man, your friend-- Do I know him?"

"Do you not know everybody? But I have no permission to disclose his
name."

"And I do not care for it, if he is going to make a _mesalliance;_ a
marriage beneath him. Such marriages turn out miserably. A woman not
fit for society drags her husband out of it; a woman who has not
refined tastes makes him gradually coarse; a woman with no connections
keeps him from rising in life; if she is without education, she lets
all the best part of him go to waste. In short, if he marries a nobody
he becomes nobody too; parts with all his antecedents, and buries all
his advantages. It's social ruin, Philip! it is just ruin."

"If this man only does not prefer the bliss of ruining himself!"--said
her brother, rising and lightly stretching himself. Mrs. Burrage looked
at him keenly and doubtfully.

"There is no greater mistake a man can make, than to marry beneath
him," she went on.

"Yes, I think that too."

"It sinks him below his level; it is a weight round his neck; people
afterwards, when he is mentioned say,--'_He married such a one, you
know;_' and, '_Didn't he marry unfortunately?_'--He is like depreciated
coin. It kills him, Philip, politically."

"And fashionably."

"O, fashionably! of course."

"What's left to a man when he ceases to be fashionable?"

"Well, of course he chooses a new set of associates."

"But if Tom Caruthers had married as you say he wanted to marry, his
wife would have come at once into his circle, and made one of it?"

"Provided she could hold the place."

"Of that I have no doubt."

"It was a great gain to Tom that he missed."

"The world has odd balances to weigh loss and gain!" said Philip.

"Why, Philip, in addition to everything else, these girls are
_religious;_--not after a reasonable fashion, you know, but
puritanical; prejudiced, and narrow, and stiff."

"How do you know all that?"

"From that one's talk last night. And from Mrs. Wishart."

"Did _she_ say they were puritanical?"

"Yes. O yes! they are stiff about dancing and cards; and I had nearly
laughed last night at the way Miss--what's her name?--opened her eyes
at me when I spoke of the theatre."

"She does not know what the theatre is," said Philip.

"She thinks she does."

"She does not know the half."

"Philip," said Mrs. Burrage severely and discontentedly, "you are not
agreeing with me."

"Not entirely, sister."

"You are as fond of the theatre, or of th