lenty here, really." Mrs Roper was probably
thinking of Mr Todgers.

"I hope I shall," said Mrs Lupex. "But, as I was saying, Broadstairs
is delightful. Were you ever at Broadstairs, Mr Cradell?"

"Never, Mrs Lupex. I generally go abroad in my leave. One sees more
of the world, you know. I was at Dieppe last June, and found that
very delightful--though rather lonely. I shall go to Ostend this
year; only December is so late for Ostend. It was a deuced shame my
getting December, wasn't it, Johnny?"

"Yes, it was," said Eames. "I managed better."

"And what have you been doing, Mr Eames?" said Mrs Lupex, with one
of her sweetest smiles. "Whatever it may have been, you've not been
false to the cause of beauty, I'm sure." And she looked over to
Amelia with a knowing smile. But Amelia was engaged upon her plate,
and went on with her dinner without turning her eyes either on Mrs
Lupex or on John Eames.

"I haven't done anything particular," said Eames. "I've just been
staying with my mother."

"We've been very social here, haven't we, Miss Amelia?" continued Mrs
Lupex. "Only now and then a cloud comes across the heavens, and the
lights at the banquet are darkened." Then she put her handkerchief
up to her eyes, sobbing deeply, and they all knew that she was again
alluding to the sins of her husband.

As soon as dinner was over the ladies with young Mr Roper retired,
and Eames and Cradell were left to take their wine over the
dining-room fire,--or their glass of gin and water, as it might be.
"Well, Caudle, old fellow," said one. "Well, Johnny, my boy," said
the other. "What's the news at the office?" said Eames.

"Muggeridge has been playing the very mischief." Muggeridge was the
second clerk in Cradell's room. "We're going to put him into Coventry
and not speak to him except officially. But to tell you the truth,
my hands have been so full here at home, that I haven't thought much
about the office. What am I to do about that woman?"

"Do about her? How do about her?"

"Yes; what am I to do about her? How am I to manage with her? There's
Lupex off again in one of his fits of jealousy."

"But it's not your fault, I suppose?"

"Well; I can't just say. I am fond of her, and that's the long and
the short of it; deuced fond of her."

"But, my dear Caudle, you know she's that man's wife."

"Oh, yes, I know all about it. I'm not going to defend myself. It's
wrong, I know,--pleasant, but wrong. But what's a fellow to