ows." This was true,
but Frank did not say that it was true. "Lord Fawn is at any rate
respectable. At least, I thought he was so when I accepted his
offer."

"He is respectable enough."

"Just that;--isn't it?--and nothing more. You do not blame me for
saying that I would be his wife? If you do, I will unsay it, let
it cost me what it may. He is treating me so badly that I need not
go far for an excuse." Then she looked into his face with all the
eagerness of her gaze, clearly implying that she expected a serious
answer. "Why do you not answer me, Frank?"

"What am I to say? He is a timid, cautious man. They have frightened
him about this trumpery necklace, and he is behaving badly. But he
will make a good husband. He is not a spendthrift. He has rank. All
his people are respectable. As Lady Fawn, any house in England will
be open to you. He is not rich, but together you will be rich."

"What is all that without love?"

"I do not doubt his love. And when you are his own he will love you
dearly."

"Ah, yes;--as he would a horse or a picture. Is there anything of the
rapture of love in that? Is that your idea of love? Is it so you love
your Miss Demure?"

"Don't call names, Lizzie."

"I shall say what I please of her. You and I are to be friends, and I
may not speak? No;--I will have no such friendship! She is demure. If
you like it, what harm is there in my saying it? I am not demure. I
know that. I do not, at least, pretend to be other than I am. When
she becomes your wife, I wonder whether you will like her ways?" He
had not yet told her that she was to be his wife, nor did he so tell
her now. He thought for a moment that he had better tell her, but he
did not do so. It would, he said to himself, add an embarrassment
to his present position. And as the marriage was to be postponed
for a year, it might be better, perhaps, for Lucy that it should
not be declared openly. It was thus he argued with himself, but yet,
no doubt, he knew well that he did not declare the truth because it
would take away something of its sweetness from this friendship with
his cousin Lizzie.

"If ever I do marry," he said, "I hope I shall like my wife's ways."

"Of course you will not tell me anything. I do not expect confidence
from you. I do not think a man is ever able to work himself up to
the mark of true confidence with his friend. Men together, when they
like each other, talk of politics, or perhaps of money; but I doubt
w