From his visit to Eden, which, in different ways, had proved satisfactory to both gentlemen, Merton returned at six o'clock to dine with his wife, their usual midday meal having been put off until that hour to suit his convenience. He had brought a bottle of good wine with him; for with fifty pounds in his pocket he could afford to be free for once, and at table he made himself very entertaining. “This has been a red-letter day,” he said, “and I shall finish it by being as lazy as I like to be. I shouldn't care to sit down now to work after such a good dinner. Rest and be thankful is my motto for the moment, and perhaps by-and-by you will treat me to some of your music. Eden has rather a taste for music, and admires your playing greatly.” He was very lively, and chattered on in this strain until the wine was finished, and then Constance played and sung a few of his favourite pieces. But after the singing was over, and when she was doing a little needlework, she noticed that he had grown strangely silent, and sat staring into the fire with clouded face; and thinking that there was perhaps something on his mind which he might like to speak about, she put down her work and went to him. “What is it, Merton, dear?” she said; “are there any dead flies in that little pot of apothecary's ointment you brought home to-day?” “No, not one--not even the proboscis of a fly has been left sticking in it. By the way, here it is, all but five pounds which I had to change to-day. Take it, Connie, and stick to it like old boots. No, dear, it was not that; I was thinking of something different--something that has vexed me a little. When is your friend Fan coming again?” “Fan! I don't know. We made no arrangement. I am to write to let her know when to come. Has Fan anything to do with the vexation you speak of?” “Yes, to some extent she has; but I really had no intention of speaking of it just now, as I know how sensitive you are on that point, and biased in her favour.” “Biased in her favour, Merton? What is there wrong in her?--how can she have vexed you?” “She has done nothing intentionally to vex me. But, Connie, she is a very ignorant girl, and I cannot help regretting very much that she was here last evening when Eden came.” “You are not very complimentary to me when you call her ignorant, Merton.” “My dear girl, I don't mean ignorant in that sense. I dare say you taught her as much as most young ladies are supposed to know; perhaps more. But she is naturally ignorant of social matters, with an ignorance that is born in her and quite invincible.” “I am more puzzled than ever. I have taught her something--not very much, I confess, as I only had her for one year. But for the rest, it has always been my opinion that she possesses a natural refinement, such as one would expect from her appearance, and that there is a singular charm in her manner. Perhaps you do not think me capable of forming a right judgment about such things.”