ister was
about to do. But now the men of the right sort never came near her.
The one object for which she had subjected herself to all this
ignominy seemed to have vanished altogether in the distance. When by
chance she danced or exchanged a few words with the Nidderdales and
Grassloughs whom she used to know, they spoke to her with a want of
respect which she felt and tasted but could hardly analyse. Even Miles
Grendall, who had hitherto been below her notice, attempted to
patronize her in a manner that bewildered her. All this nearly broke
her heart.

And then from time to time little rumours reached her ears which made
her aware that, in the teeth of all Mr Melmotte's social successes, a
general opinion that he was a gigantic swindler was rather gaining
ground than otherwise. 'Your host is a wonderful fellow, by George!'
said Lord Nidderdale. 'No one seems to know which way he'll turn up at
last.' 'There's nothing like being a robber, if you can only rob
enough,' said Lord Grasslough,--not exactly naming Melmotte, but very
clearly alluding to him. There was a vacancy for a member of
parliament at Westminster, and Melmotte was about to come forward as a
candidate. 'If he can manage that I think he'll pull through,' she
heard one man say. 'If money'll do it, it will be done,' said another.
She could understand it all. Mr Melmotte was admitted into society,
because of some enormous power which was supposed to lie in his hands;
but even by those who thus admitted him he was regarded as a thief and
a scoundrel. This was the man whose house had been selected by her
father in order that she might make her search for a husband from
beneath his wing!

In her agony she wrote to her old friend Julia Triplex, now the wife
of Sir Damask Monogram. She had been really intimate with Julia
Triplex, and had been sympathetic when a brilliant marriage had been
achieved. Julia had been without fortune, but very pretty. Sir Damask
was a man of great wealth, whose father had been a contractor. But Sir
Damask himself was a sportsman, keeping many horses on which other men
often rode, a yacht in which other men sunned themselves, a deer
forest, a moor, a large machinery for making pheasants. He shot
pigeons at Hurlingham, drove four-in-hand in the park, had a box at
every race-course, and was the most good-natured fellow known. He had
really conquered the world, had got over the difficulty of being the
grandson of a butcher, and was now