"These people want protecting," he said to himself frowning at the asparagus bed. "Irresponsibility when it passes a certain point becomes absolute lunacy. Fanny and her father ought to be in a lunatic asylum with their ghosts, and cats, and rubbish, only I don't believe any lunatic asylum would take them in; they would infect the other patients and make them worse. Good Heavens! it makes me shudder. They must be on the verge of the workhouse, making asparagus beds, and drinking champagne, and flying off to Paris, and feeding every filthy stray cat with food they must want for themselves. Poor devils--I mean damned fools. Anyhow, I must be going." The recollection of a certain lady named Pamela Pursehouse arose coldly in his mind now that Miss Lambert was absent from the room, and the little "still voice," whatever a still voice may be, said something about duty. He determined to flee from temptation directly his hostess returned, but he reckoned without Fate. The door opened and Fanny entered with a face full of tragedy. She closed the door. "What do you think Susannah has told me?" She spoke in a low voice as if death were in the house. "What?" "James has come in and he has--had too much!" "You don't mean to say that he is intoxicated?" "I do," said Fanny with her voice filled with tears. "How _disgraceful_! I will go down and turn him out." Then he remembered that he could not very well turn him out considering that he was in possession. "For goodness sake don't even hint that to him, or he may go," cried Fanny in alarm, "for, when he gets like this, he always talks of leaving at once, because his calling is a disgrace to him, and if he went, Susannah would follow him." "But, my dear girl," cried Charles, "how dare that wretched Susannah--ahem--why, he's a married man, you told me so; surely she knows _that_." "Yes, she knows that, but she says she can't help herself." "_I_ never met such people before!" said Charles, addressing a jade dragon on the mantelpiece--"I mean," he said, putting his hands in his trousers' pockets and addressing his boots, "such a person as Susannah." "Her mother ran away with her father," murmured Fanny in extenuation, "so I suppose it is in the blood. But I wish we could do something with James. If he would even go to bed, but he sits by the kitchen fire crying, and that sets Susannah off. She will be ill for days after this. He said it was a cigar some one gave him that reminded him of his better days----" "Bother his better days!" "----and he went to try and drown the recollection of them. It is so stupid of him, he _knows_ how drink flies to his head; you would never imagine if you could see him now that he has only had two glasses of beer." "I will go down to the kitchen and speak to him," said Charles. "But, Cousin Charles," said Fanny, plucking at his coat, "be sure and speak gently." "I will," said Mr Bevan. "Then I'll go with you," said she.