be hoped she will not like; and, in any
case, you must remember that I have warned you. Don't let her, my dear,
make a catspaw of you."

"A catspaw of me!" Lucy was amused by these words--not offended, as so
many might have been--perhaps because she felt herself little likely to
be so dominated; a fact that the much older and more experienced woman
by her side was quite unaware of. "But," she said, "Tom would not have
invited her, Aunt Randolph, if he had thought her likely to do
that--indeed, how could he have been such great friends with her if she
had not been nice as well as pretty? You forget there must always be
that in her favour to me."

"Oh, Tom!" cried Lady Randolph with indignation. "My dear Lucy," she
added after a pause, with subdued exasperation, "men are the most
unaccountable creatures! Knowing him as I do, I should have thought she
was the very last person--but how can we tell? I dare say the idea
amused him. Tom will do anything that amuses him--or tickles his vanity.
I confess it is as you say, very, very difficult to account for it; but
he has done it. He wants to show off a little to her, I suppose; or else
he---- There is really no telling, Lucy. It is the last thing in the
world I should have thought of; and you may be quite sure, my dear," she
added with emphasis, "she never would have been invited at all if he had
expected me to be here when she came."

Lucy did not make any answer for some time. Her face, which had kept its
gaiety and radiance, grew grave, and when they had driven back towards
the hall for about ten minutes in silence, she said quietly "You do not
mean it, I am sure; but do you know, Aunt Randolph, you are trying to
make me think very badly of my husband; and no one has ever done that
before."

"Oh, your husband is just like other people's husbands, Lucy," cried
the elder lady impatiently. Then, however, she subdued herself, with an
anxious look at her companion. "My dear, you know how fond I am of Tom:
and I know he is fond of you; he would not do anything to harm you for
the world. I suppose it is because he has such a prodigious confidence
in you that he thinks it does not matter; and I don't suppose it does
matter. The only thing is, don't be over intimate with her, Lucy; don't
let her fix herself upon you when you go to town, and talk about young
Lady Randolph as her dearest friend. She is quite capable of doing it.
And as for Tom--well, he is just a man when all is s