"--and now he turned round
to Eames,--"you'll beware of marrying too soon in life."

"I think a man should marry early, if he marries well," said Eames.

"Don't misunderstand me," continued Lupex. "It isn't about Mrs L. I'm
speaking. I've always regarded my wife as a very fascinating woman."

"Hear, hear, hear!" said Cradell, thumping the table.

"Indeed she is," said Eames.

"And when I caution you against marrying, don't you misunderstand me.
I've never said a word against her to any man, and never will. If a
man don't stand by his wife, whom will he stand by? I blame no one
but myself. But I do say this; I never had a chance;--I never had a
chance;--never had a chance." And as he repeated the words, for the
third time, his lips were already fixed to the rim of his tumbler.

At this moment the door of the dining-room was opened, and Mrs Lupex
put in her head.

"Lupex," she said, "what are you doing?"

"Yes, my dear. I can't say I'm doing anything at the present moment.
I was giving a little advice to these young gentlemen."

"Mr Cradell, I wonder at you. And, Mr Eames, I wonder at you,
too,--in your position! Lupex, come upstairs at once." She then
stepped into the room and secured the gin-bottle.

"Oh, Mr Cradell, do come here," said Amelia, in her liveliest tone,
as soon as the men made their appearance above. "I've been waiting
for you this half-hour. I've got such a puzzle for you." And she
made way for him to a chair which was between herself and the wall.
Cradell looked half afraid of his fortunes as he took the proffered
seat; but he did take it, and was soon secured from any positive
physical attack by the strength and breadth of Miss Roper's
crinoline.

"Dear me! Here's a change," said Mrs Lupex, out loud.

Johnny Eames was standing close, and whispered into her ear, "Changes
are so pleasant sometimes! Don't you think so? I do."

CHAPTER XLVIII

Nemesis

Crosbie had now settled down to the calm realities of married life,
and was beginning to think that the odium was dying away which for
a week or two had attached itself to him, partly on account of his
usage of Miss Dale, but more strongly in consequence of the thrashing
which he had received from John Eames. Not that he had in any way
recovered his former tone of life, or that he ever hoped to do so.
But he was able to go in and out of his club without embarrassment.
He could talk with his wonted voice, and act with his wonted
aut