"Now listen to me. As Wilton Street was quite near, I went on there to gather what I could from Miss Payne. She was at home, and a little less sour and silent then usual. She was sorry, she said, the boys were out. They have been with her for a week, and Lord de Burgh had been most kind. He had taken them to the Zoological Gardens and Madame Tussaud's, and just now had called for them to go to the circus. Isn't it wonderful? Do try and picture De Burgh at Madame Tussaud's." "There is only one way of accounting for such strange conduct," returned the Colonel, thoughtfully. "He means to marry your sister. This would change the face of affairs considerably." "Yes; it would be delightful." "I'm not so sure of that," returned Ormonde, seriously. "Now that he is in love--and you know he is all fire and tow--he makes a fuss about the boys; but wait till he is married, and he will try to shift them back on you. Why should he put up with his wife's nephews any more than I do with _my_ wife's sons?" "Because he is more in love, and a good deal richer," returned Mrs. Ormonde. "More in love! Bosh! In the middle of the fever, you mean. Of course that will pass over." "Really men are great brutes," observed Mrs. Ormonde, philosophically. "And women awful fools," added her husband. "Well, perhaps so," she returned, with a slight smile and a sharp glance. "Seriously, though," resumed Colonel Ormonde, "it's all very well for Katherine to make a good match, and if De Burgh is fool enough to be in earnest, it will be a splendid match for her; but things may be made rather rough for me. That fellow De Burgh has the queerest crotchets, and doesn't hesitate to air them. He'd think nothing of slapping my shoulder in the club before a dozen members, and asking me if I meant to leave my wife's brats on his hands." "Do you really think so? Oh, Katherine would never let him. She dearly loves the boys." "Wait till she has a son of her own." "Even so. She has her faults, I know. Her temper is rather violent, her ideas are too high-flown and nonsensical, and she won't take advice, but she never would injure _me_, I am sure of that." An inarticulate grunt from Colonel Ormonde, as he fixed his double glass on his nose and took up his pen again. "Duke," resumed Mrs. Ormonde, after a pause, "don't you think I had better go and see Katherine? You know we never had any quarrel, and that Mrs. Needham she lives with gives very nice parties." "Parties! By Jove! you'd go to old Nick for a party. What good will it do you to meet a pack of beggarly scribblers?" "They may not have money, Duke, but they have _manners_, and something to say for themselves," she retorted. "Never mind about the parties. Don't you think I would better call on Katherine?" "Do as you like but consider that she has behaved very badly--with extreme insolence; but I don't want to influence you." This in a tone of magnanimity, as he began to write with an air of profound attention.