.'

'He's an excellent man of business, and is making a very large
fortune.'

'And has five or six grown-up children, who, no doubt, will be a
comfort.'

'If I don't mind them, why need you? You have none at all, and you
find it lonely enough.'

'Not at all lonely. I have everything that I desire. How hard you are
trying to be ill-natured, Georgiana.'

'Why did you say that he was a--butcher?'

'I said nothing of the kind. I didn't even say that he was like a
butcher. What I did say was this,--that I don't feel inclined to risk my
own reputation on the appearance of new people at my table. Of course,
I go in for what you call fashion. Some people can dare to ask anybody
they meet in the streets. I can't. I've my own line, and I mean to
follow it. It's hard work, I can tell you; and it would be harder
still if I wasn't particular. If you like Mr Brehgert to come here on
Tuesday evening, when the rooms will be full, you can ask him; but as
for having him to dinner, I--won't--do--it.' So the matter was at last
settled. Miss Longestaffe did ask Mr Brehgert for the Tuesday evening,
and the two ladies were again friends.

Perhaps Lady Monogram, when she illustrated her position by an
allusion to a butcher and a hair-dresser, had been unaware that Mr
Brehgert had some resemblance to the form which men in that trade are
supposed to bear. Let us at least hope that she was so. He was a fat,
greasy man, good-looking in a certain degree, about fifty, with hair
dyed black, and beard and moustache dyed a dark purple colour. The
charm of his face consisted in a pair of very bright black eyes, which
were, however, set too near together in his face for the general
delight of Christians. He was stout;--fat all over rather than
corpulent,--and had that look of command in his face which has become
common to master-butchers, probably by long intercourse with sheep and
oxen. But Mr Brehgert was considered to be a very good man of business,
and was now regarded as being, in a commercial point of view, the
leading member of the great financial firm of which he was the second
partner. Mr Todd's day was nearly done. He walked about constantly
between Lombard Street, the Exchange, and the Bank, and talked much to
merchants; he had an opinion too of his own on particular cases; but
the business had almost got beyond him, and Mr Brehgert was now
supposed to be the moving spirit of the firm. He was a widower, living
in a luxurious villa at