On the whole, she thought, they ought not to frighten Sibylla much. There was one terrible example--the Courtlands; but when it comes to throwing things about, the case is admittedly abnormal. For the rest they seemed, to the student of matrimony, fair average samples of a bulk of fair average merit. Perhaps there might have been an ideal union--just to counter-balance the Courtlands at the other extreme. If such were desirable, let it be hoped that the Imasons themselves would supply it. In regard to one point, she decided, the company was really above the average--and that the most important point. There had been rumours once about Christine Fanshaw--indeed they were still heard sometimes; but scandal had never assailed any other woman there. In these days that was something, thought Mrs. Raymore. Grantley turned from Christine Fanshaw to his hostess. "You're very silent. What are you thinking about?" he asked. "Sibylla's really beautiful, and in a rather unusual way. You might pass her over once; but if you did look once, you'd be sure to look always." "Another woman's looks have kept your attention all this time?" "Your wife's," she reminded him with an affectionately friendly glance. "And I was wondering what she thought of us all, what we all look like in those pondering thoughtful questioning eyes of hers." "Her eyes do ask questions, don't they?" laughed Grantley. "Many, many, and must have answers, I should think. And don't they expect good answers?" "Oh, she's not really at all alarming!" "You can make the eyes say something different, I daresay?" He laughed again very contentedly. Mrs. Raymore's admiration pleased him, since she was not very easy herself to please. He was glad she approved of Sibylla, though as a rule his own opinion was enough for him. "Well, they aren't always questioning. That would be fatiguing in a wife--really as bad as continually discussing the Arian heresy, as old Johnson says. But I daresay," he lowered his voice, "Lady Harriet would excite a query or two." "You've told me nothing about Sibylla. I shall have to find it all out for myself." "That's the only knowledge worth having; and I'm only learning myself still, you know." "Really, that's an unusually just frame of mind for a husband. I've high hopes of you, Grantley." "Good! Because you know me uncommonly well." She thought a moment. "No, not so very well," she said. "You're hard to know." He took that as a compliment; probably most people would, since it seems to hint at something rare and out of the common; inaccessibility has an aristocratic flavour. "Oh, I suppose we all have our fastnesses," he said with a laugh which politely waived any claim to superiority without expressly abandoning it. "Doesn't one give up the key of the gates by marrying?" "My dear Kate, read your Bluebeard again!"