ed the ruffle of Honiton lace about her massive
throat,--"It was a little more than liking--though, of course, her
feelings were perfectly proper, and all that sort of thing,--at least, I
suppose they were! She had a great friendship for him,--one of those
emotional, perfectly spiritual and innocent attachments, I believe,
which are so rare in this wicked world." Mrs. Marvelle sighed, then
suddenly becoming practical again, she continued. "Yes, I shall go there
and stop to luncheon, and talk this thing over. Then I'll drive on to
the Van Clupps, and bring Marcia home to dinner. I suppose you don't
object?"

"Object!" Mr. Marvelle made a deprecatory gesture, and raised his eyes
in wonder. As if he dared object to anything whatsoever that his wife
desired!

She smiled graciously as he approached, and respectfully kissed her
smooth cool cheek, before taking his departure for his daily work as a
lawyer in the city, and when he was gone, she betook herself to her own
small boudoir, where she busied herself for more than an hour in writing
letters, and answering invitations.

She was, in her own line, a person of importance. She made it her
business to know everything and everybody--she was fond of meddling with
other people's domestic concerns, and she had a finger in every family
pie. She was, moreover, a regular match-maker,--fond of taking young
ladies under her maternal wing, and "introducing" them to the proper
quarters, and when, as was often the case, a distinguished American of
many dollars but no influence offered her three or four hundred guineas
for chaperoning his daughter into English society and marrying her well,
Mrs. Rush-Marvelle pocketed the _douceur_ quite gracefully, and did her
best for the girl. She was a good-looking woman, tall, portly, and with
an air of distinction about her, though her features were by no means
striking, and the smallness of her nose was out of all proportion to the
majesty of her form--but she had a very charming smile, and a pleasant,
taking manner, and she was universally admired in that particular "set"
wherein she moved. Girls adored her, and wrote her gushing letters, full
of the most dulcet flatteries--married ladies on the verge of a scandal
came to her to help them out of their difficulties--old dowagers,
troubled with rheumatism or refractory daughters, poured their troubles
into her sympathizing ears--in short, her hands were full of other
people's business to such an