The two gentlemen were left alone over their wine. There was a strong personal contrast between them. Mr. Vanborough was tall and dark--a dashing, handsome man; with an energy in his face which all the world saw; with an inbred falseness under it which only a special observer could detect. Mr. Kendrew was short and light--slow and awkward in manner, except when something happened to rouse him. Looking in _his_ face, the world saw an ugly and undemonstrative little man. The special observer, penetrating under the surface, found a fine nature beneath, resting on a steady foundation of honor and truth. Mr. Vanborough opened the conversation. “If you ever marry,” he said, “don’t be such a fool, Kendrew, as I have been. Don’t take a wife from the stage.” “If I could get such a wife as yours,” replied the other, “I would take her from the stage to-morrow. A beautiful woman, a clever woman, a woman of unblemished character, and a woman who truly loves you. Man alive! what do you want more?” “I want a great deal more. I want a woman highly connected and highly bred--a woman who can receive the best society in England, and open her husband’s way to a position in the world.” “A position in the world!” cried Mr. Kendrew. “Here is a man whose father has left him half a million of money--with the one condition annexed to it of taking his father’s place at the head of one of the greatest mercantile houses in England. And he talks about a position, as if he was a junior clerk in his own office! What on earth does your ambition see, beyond what your ambition has already got?” Mr. Vanborough finished his glass of wine, and looked his friend steadily in the face. “My ambition,” he said, “sees a Parliamentary career, with a Peerage at the end of it--and with no obstacle in the way but my estimable wife.” Mr. Kendrew lifted his hand warningly. “Don’t talk in that way,” he said. “If you’re joking--it’s a joke I don’t see. If you’re in earnest--you force a suspicion on me which I would rather not feel. Let us change the subject.” “No! Let us have it out at once. What do you suspect?” “I suspect you are getting tired of your wife.” “She is forty-two, and I am thirty-five; and I have been married to her for thirteen years. You know all that--and you only suspect I am tired of her. Bless your innocence! Have you any thing more to say?”