shall have
to call on the creature--just imagine it! It is most unfortunate for me
that I happen to be one of Bruce-Errington's oldest friends--otherwise I
might have passed him over in some way--as it is I can't. But fancy
having to meet a great coarse peasant woman, who, I'm certain, will only
be able to talk about fish and whale-oil! It is really _quite_
dreadful!"

Mr. Rush-Marvelle permitted himself to smile faintly.

"Let us hope she will not turn out so badly," he said soothingly,--"but,
you know, if she proves to be--er--a common person of,--er--a very
uneducated type--you can always let her drop gently--quite gently!"

And he waved his skinny hand with an explanatory flourish.

But Mrs. Marvelle did not accept his suggestion in good part.

"You know nothing about it," she said somewhat testily. "Keep to your
own business, Montague, such as it is. The law suits your particular
form of brain--society does not. You would never be in society at all if
it were not for me--now you know you wouldn't!"

"My love," said Mr. Marvelle, with a look of meek admiration at his
wife's majestic proportions. "I am aware of it! I always do you justice.
You are a remarkable woman!"

Mrs. Marvelle smiled, somewhat mollified. "You see," she then
condescended to explain--"the whole thing is so extremely disappointing
to me. I wanted Marcia Van Clupp to go in for the Errington stakes,--it
would have been such an excellent match,--money on both sides. And
Marcia would have been just the girl to look after that place down in
Warwickshire--the house is going to rack and ruin, in _my_ opinion."

"Ah, yes!" agreed her husband mildly. "Van Clupp is a fine girl--a
_very_ fine girl! No end of 'go' in her. And so Errington Manor needs a
good deal of repairing, perhaps?" This query was put by Mr. Marvelle,
with his head very much on one side, and his bilious eyes blinking
drowsily.

"I don't know about repairs," replied Mrs. Marvelle. "It is a
magnificent place, and certainly the grounds are ravishing. But one of
the best rooms in the house, is the former Lady Errington's boudoir--it
is full of old-fashioned dirty furniture, and Bruce-Errington won't have
it touched,--he will insist on keeping it as his mother left it. Now
that is ridiculous--perfectly morbid! It's just the same thing with his
father's library--he won't have that touched either--and the ceiling
wants fresh paint, and the windows want new curtains--and all sorts of
t