Marie Collier had her little vanities, like most people; as, for instance, in the matter of her name. She plumed herself on being "Madame Collier;" not plain prosaic "Mrs." In the matter of dress, she did not study the becoming. Vanity here took the opposite course, not necessarily less vain. She prided herself on a stoical indifference to appearances. "Preposterous!" she repeated, taking a pin from her mouth, sticking it into the serge, and reaching energetically across the dining-room table for scissors. Mr. Trevelyan stood on the other side, upright and stern. "I declare the world is going crazy. General Villiers, over sixty years old—and a baby of sixteen! Preposterous!" "Matters are bad enough without exaggeration. General Villiers is fifty-five, and Evelyn is just eighteen." "Eighteen and fifty-five! He might be her grandfather! It is wicked! Downright wicked!" declared Madame Collier, paying off her heat of spirit into the folding and pinning. "I never heard such an idea in my life. Who told you?" "General Villiers. I met him half-an-hour since. He seemed too much delighted to keep the thing to himself; but it is not to be known just yet." "And Miss Devereux?" "I gather that she is taken by surprise—" "I should just think so!" "But that she will offer no serious objection." "Sybella Devereux would offer no serious objection if the world were to be turned into a cream-cheese. She hasn't the wits. Oh, she will fall in with the plan—glad to get the girl off her hands. The General can do as he likes—though how he manages to reconcile his conscience passes my understanding." "He must decide for himself." "He's sure to do that—and for Evelyn too. What man doesn't? He'll follow his own inclinations, of course, and sacrifice that young creature, before she understands what it all means. Why, she's an infant! What has she seen of life? Care for him! It's out of the question! Preposterous! Yes, I dare say she cares after a fashion—the way a girl cares for her grandfather. Likes to be the Lady of Dutton Park, no doubt! That's the bait. And she and Miss Devereux don't pull together. Anybody with half an eye can see! A lucky chance of escape, no doubt—but as for that child being in love with General Villiers—! I know better. The girl's an actress, if she lets him think so. But it's the General that I blame. She doesn't know what she is doing, and he does. Don't talk to me again of his goodness! I've no patience with such goodness! It's downright wickedness!" cried the Rector's sister, dropping a small shower of pins by way of climax, for anger opens the lips. Her tone changed suddenly. "Jean! What are you doing there? You have no business to creep in and listen to what people are saying."