“I don't think so, my Lady. The more one sees of life the simpler does it seem, not from any study of humanity, but by the easy fact that three or four motives sway the whole world. An unsupplied want of one kind or other--wealth, rank, distinction, affection, it may be--gives the entire impulse to a character, just as a passion imparts the expression to a face; and all the diversities of temperament, like those of countenance, are nothing but the impress of a want,--you may call it a wish. Now it may be,” added he, and as he spoke he stole a glance, quick as lightning, at Lady Grace, “that such experiences are more common to men like myself,--men, I mean, who are intrusted with the charge of others' interests; but assuredly I have no clew to character save in that one feature,--a want.” “But I want fifty thousand things,” said Lady Lacking-ton. “I want a deal of money; I want that beautiful villa near Palermo, the 'Serra Novena;' I want that Arab pony Kratuloff rides in the park; I want, in short, everything that pleases me every hour of the day.” “These are not wants that make impulses, no more than a passing shower makes a climate,” said Dunn. “What I speak of is that unceasing, unwearied desire that is with us in joy or sadness, that journeys with us and lives with us, mingling in every action, blending with every thought, and presenting to our minds a constant picture of ourselves under some wished-for aspect different from all we have ever known, where we are surrounded with other impulses and swayed by other passions, and yet still identically ourselves. Lady Grace apprehends me.” “Perhaps,--at least partly,” said she, fanning herself and concealing her face. “There are very few exempt from a temptation of this sort, or, if they be, it is because their minds are dissipated on various objects.” “I hate things to be called temptations, and snares, and the rest of it,” said Lady Lackington; “it is a very tiresome cant. You may tell me while I am waiting for my fish-sauce at dinner, it is a temptation; but if you wish me really to understand the word, tell me of some wonderful speculation, some marvellous scheme for securing millions. Oh, dear Mr. Dunn, you who really know the way, will you just show me the road to--I will be moderate--about twenty thousand pounds?” “Nothing easier, my Lady, if you are disposed to risk forty.” “But I am not, sir. I have not the slightest intention to risk one hundred. I 'm not a gambler.” “And yet what your Ladyship points at is very like gambling.” “Pray place that word along with temptation, in the forbidden category; it is quite hateful to me.” “Have _you_ the same dislike to chance, Lady Grace?” said he, stealing a look at her face with some earnestness. “No,” said she, in a low voice; “it is all I have to look for.”