and doing goodness knows what, and idling her
life away, never putting a darn in her stockings even--is irreproachable
conduct on the part of a young woman of Zora's birth and appearance? The
way she dresses must attract attention, wherever she goes. It's supposed to
be 'stylish' nowadays. In my time it was immodest. When a young woman was
forced to journey alone she made herself as inconspicuous as possible. Zora
ought to have a husband to look after her. Then she could do as she
liked--or as he liked, which would be much the best thing for her."

"I happen to be in Mrs. Middlemist's confidence," said Sypher. "She has
told me many times that she would never marry again. Her marriage--"

"Stuff and rubbish!" cried Cousin Jane. "You wait until the man comes along
who has made up his mind to marry her. It must be a big strong man who
won't stand any nonsense and will take her by the shoulders and shake her.
She'll marry him fast enough. We'll see what happens to her in California."

"I hope she won't marry one of those dreadful creatures with lassos," said
Mrs. Oldrieve, whose hazy ideas of California were based on hazier memories
of Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show which she had seen many years ago in
London.

"I hope Mrs. Middlemist won't marry at all," said Sypher, in a tone of
alarm.

"Why?" asked Cousin Jane.

She shot the question at him with almost a snarl. Sypher paused for a
moment or two before replying.

"I should lose a friend," said he.

"Humph!" said Cousin Jane.

If the late Rev. Laurence Sterne had known Cousin Jane, "Tristram Shandy"
would have been the richer by a chapter on "Humphs." He would have analyzed
this particular one with a minute delicacy beyond the powers of Clem Sypher
through whose head rang the echo of the irritating vocable for some time
afterwards. It meant something. It meant something uncomfortable. It was
directly leveled at himself and yet it seemed to sum up her previous
disparaging remarks about Zora. "What the dickens _did_ she mean by it?" he
asked himself.

He came down to Nunsmere every week now, having given up his establishment
at Kilburn Priory and sold the house--"The Kurhaus," as he had named it in
his pride. A set of bachelor's chambers in St. James's sheltered him during
his working days in London. He had also sold his motor-car; for
retrenchment in personal expenses had become necessary, and the
purchase-money of house and car were needed for the war of adverti