"Here's a seat," said the little stout man; and his partner, an elderly and amiable matron, sat down, bestowing the deprecatory smile of old-fashioned courtesy upon the two already in possession. He took the end of the bench himself, and chatted away to her--she was his aunt, apparently--leaning a little forward, with an elbow on his knee; and Rachel, dreamily occupied as she was, was quite conscious that his keen eyes dwelt persistently, not upon his neighbour's face, but upon her own. "Why don't you go and get a partner, James?" said the elderly matron. "You don't want to dance attendance upon me, my dear--I shall do very well here until Lucy wants me. Go and find some pretty young lady, and enjoy yourself like the rest of them." "I don't believe in pretty young ladies," replied the little man, rather bluntly. "Except Lucy--and she is engaged for the whole night, as far as I can make out." Here ensued some comments upon Lucy, who appeared to be the lady's daughter, generally favourable to that young person. And the little man then began to inveigh against the abstract girl of the period with trenchant vigour--obviously to the great embarrassment of his companion, who tried her best, but vainly, to divert him to other topics. "In fact, there are no girls nowadays," he remarked coolly; "they are all calculating, selfish, heartless, worldly women--always excepting Lucy, of course--as soon as they cease to be children. They have only one object in life, and that is to marry a man--no, not a man necessarily, a forked stick will do--who has plenty of money." "My dear, that is a popular sentiment, I know, and supposed to be full of wit and wisdom, but it always seems to me that it is just a little vulgar," replied his companion, frowning surreptitiously, and giving uneasy sidelong glances at Rachel. "There are girls and girls, of course, just as there are men and men; we see bad and good in every class. How beautifully this place lights up, to be sure!" "They like a fellow to dance with them and dangle after them, and make love to them, and break his heart for them--nothing pleases them better--when they have no serious business on hand," the little man proceeded, with unabashed composure, and still gazing steadily at Rachel; "but when it comes to marriage--" "My dear James, I am _not_ recommending marriage to you--only a harmless waltz." "Then they are for sale to the highest bidder, whoever he may happen to be. The poor, impecunious lover--be he ever so much a lover, and the best fellow that walks the earth into the bargain--must take himself off--and cut his throat for all she cares." At this sudden change from the plural to the singular, and at something personal and impertinent that she recognised in the tone and look of the speaker, a deep blush flooded Rachel's face, and she rose from her seat with dignity, but trembling in all her limbs.