life is. There was a poor girl whom he brought out of a
Newcome factory when he was a boy himself, and might have had a heart
one would have thought, whom he ill-treated, whom he deserted, and
flung out of doors without a penny, upon some pretence of her infidelity
towards him; who came and actually sat down on the steps of Park Lane
with a child on each side of her, and not their cries and their hunger,
but the fear of his own shame and a dread of a police-court, forced him
to give her a maintenance. I never see the fellow but I loathe him, and
long to kick him out of window and this man is to marry a noble young
lady because forsooth he is a partner in a bank, and heir to seven or
eight thousand a year. Oh, it is a shame, it is a shame! It makes me
sick when I think of the lot which the poor thing is to endure."

"It is not a nice story," said Lord Kew, rolling a cigarette; "Barnes is
not a nice man. I give you that in. You have not heard it talked about
in the family, have you?"

"Good heavens! you don't suppose that I would speak to Ethel, to Miss
Newcome, about such a foul subject as that?" cries Clive. "I never
mentioned it to my own father. He would have turned Barnes out of his
doors if he had known it."

"It was the talk about town, I know," Kew said dryly. "Everything is
told in those confounded clubs. I told you I give up Barnes. I like him
no more than you do. He may have treated the woman ill, I suspect he has
not an angelical temper: but in this matter he has not been so bad, so
very bad as it would seem. The first step is wrong, of course--those
factory towns--that sort of thing, you know--well, well, the
commencement of the business is a sad one. But he is not the only sinner
in London. He has declared on his honour to me when the matter was
talked about, and he was coming on for election at Bays's, and was as
nearly as any man I ever knew in my life,--he declared on his word that
he only parted from poor Mrs. Delacy, (Mrs. Delacy, the devil used to
call herself) because he found that she had served him--as such
women will serve men. He offered to send his children to school in
Yorkshire--rather a cheap school--but she would not part with them. She
made a scandal in order to get good terms, and she succeeded. He was
anxious to break the connexion: he owned it had hung like a millstone
round his neck and caused him a great deal of remorse--annoyance you may
call it. He was immensely cut up about it. I r