But the trimmer was now won to the other side. She would not offend Aunt Maitland by owning her conversion. She said, hypocritically, “I am afraid it is no use objecting at present, aunt. The attachment is too strong on both sides. And, whether he is poor or not, he has sacrificed his money to her feelings, and so, now, she feels bound in honor. I know her; she won't listen to a word now, aunt: why irritate her? She would quarrel with both of us in a moment.” “Poor girl!” said Miss Maitland; and took the hint. She had still an arrow in her quiver--Vizard. In mid-channel, ten miles south of Dover, she caught him in a lucid interval of non-smoke. She reminded, him he had promised her to give Mr. Severne a hint about Zoe. “So I did,” said he. “And have you?” “Well, no; to tell the truth, I forgot.” “Then please do it now; for they are going on worse than ever.” “I'll warn the fool,” said he. He did warn him, and in the following terms: “Look here, old fellow. I hear you are getting awfully sweet on my sister Zoe.” No answer. Severne on his guard. “Now, you had better mind your eye. She is a very pretty girl, and you may find yourself entangled before you know where you are.” Severne hung his head. “Of course, I know it is great presumption in me.” “Presumption? fiddlestick! Such a man as you are ought not to be tied to any woman, or, if you must be, you ought not to go cheap. Mind, Zoe is a poor girl; only ten thousand in the world. Flirt with whom you like--there is no harm in that; but don't get seriously entangled with any of them. Good sisters, and good daughters, and good flirts make bad wives.” “Oh, then,” said Severne, “it is only on my account you object.” “Well, principally. And I don't exactly object. I warn. In the first place, as soon as ever we get into Barfordshire, she will most likely jilt you. You may be only her Continental lover. How can I tell, _or you either?_ And if not, and you were to be weak enough to marry her, she would develop unexpected vices directly--they all do. And you are not rich enough to live in a house of your own; you would have to live in mine--a fine fate for a rising blade like you.” “What a terrible prospect--to be tied to the best friend in England as well as the loveliest woman!” “Oh, if that is the view you take,” said Vizard, beaming with delight, “it is no use talking reason to _you.”_ When they reached London, Vizard gave Miss Maitland an outline of this conversation; and, so far from seeing the humor of it, which, nevertheless, was pretty strong and characteristic of the man and his one foible, she took the huff, and would not even stay to dinner at the hotel. She would go into her own county by the next train, bag and baggage.