Caroline was confounded. In her mind the common notions of her generation on the subjects of piety, morality, and social propriety were inextricably blended. Quite unconsciously to herself she had included in her scheme for Alistair’s salvation the possession of a big Cubitt-built house in Eaton Square, with menservants eating five substantial meals a day in the basement, and doing little else; a carriage and pair, conveying him and his wife to an endless round of serious entertainments in other Cubitt-built houses, wherein similar menservants ate similar meals; the directorship of some respectable railway or insurance company to occupy his mind; a seat on a hospital committee by way of good works; and, above all, a stately pew furnished with red cushions and hassocks, in which he would be seen regularly every Sunday morning, carrying the glossiest of silk hats and wearing the straightest of frock-coats. No doubt she placed first of all that spiritual change which she deemed necessary to all men, but she believed that if Alistair were once converted all these other things would be added unto him, and perhaps she also believed, without being conscious of it, that if the other things were present the conversion would be added. Molly’s own ideal was really very similar. The Cubitt-built life was the life for which she hankered with all a woman’s thirst for the envy of other women. If the Duchess had known it she might have found in Molly a much more trustworthy ally than in Hero Vanbrugh. But she was never likely to know it. For her Molly embodied every evil influence at work in Alistair’s life. The evil had triumphed, and the best that could now be hoped for was some poor salvage from the wreck. “What sort of friends?” she said, in answer to Molly’s last remarks. “I am afraid my poor boy’s friendships have done him more harm than good.” “His relations haven’t done much for him anyway.” The two women regarded each other with unconcealed hostility as they exchanged these retorts. It was a new experience for the Duchess to be defied in this open fashion. “I am afraid you must take the responsibility for that,” she said severely. “His brother and I were both trying to save him, but you prevented us.” “How did I?” “How? By marrying him, of course.” “And why should that prevent your doing anything for him? I know! If he had married your Miss Vanbrugh, as you wanted, the Duke would have paid off his debts fast enough. Because he preferred me you wash your hands of him in revenge.” “He did not prefer you,” said the Duchess sternly. “He thought that after living with you as he had done he was unfit to be the husband of a good woman.” It was a merciless stab, the stab of a mother fighting for her offspring. For an instant Molly felt sick. Then, to the dismay of her adversary, she burst into tears.