"Suppose the Earl doesn't agree?" "He will. It will be a pill for him, but he doesn't want the family name dragged through the law courts." "But suppose?" "Well, if he does, we are ready for him. If he ab-so-lute-ly refuses, I go to the front door, whistle up Fitz, pop him into this motor, skim off to Lindley, and get married by special licence. Fitz has agreed, and has the licence in his pocket now. Then I shall have an even stronger card to play--do you see?" "Afraid not. Too deep for me." "Well, once we're legally married, the old chap will find that as a real wife I am far more expensive to get rid of than before." "Get rid of?" "Yes. He wouldn't think of admitting _me_ to his almighty family circle. He would have to ask now what I would take to live apart from Fitz." "Live apart?" "Yes." "And you'd agree?" "For two hundred thousand--yes." "My word! You'd leave your husband?" "Yes. You don't suppose I want to spend all my days with an image like Fitz, do you?" Lottie threw herself back petulantly in her seat. Presently Pip laid his hand on her arm. "Don't!" said he. "Don't what?" "Don't be drawn into this affair." "Why not? Seems to me I'm in it pretty thick already." "You could break it off--at once. It would be the kindest thing to do." "It would be a blamed silly thing to do," said Miss Lottingar frankly. "Do you care for him at all?" "Fitz? Not a rap." "But--do you like him?" "Oh, yes! He's a decent little sort." "Well, just think what it would mean to him if he married you, and then--found out." "Um!" said Miss Lottie thoughtfully. "Besides," continued Pip, following up his advantage, "think of yourself." "I usually do," said Lottie. "Women were never meant for that low-down sort of game," said Pip, getting to the heart of his subject. Suddenly Lottie blazed out. "There you go! Women, women, women! I wonder if there was ever a man in this world that could treat a woman sensibly. Some men--most men--look upon women as fair game, and treat them accordingly. The others--men like you--look on them as little pot angels, and shudder when they show they are made of flesh and blood. Women are human beings, no better and no worse than men, only they don't get the chances men do, Jack. That's all--human beings! Remember that." "It's a hard world for women, I know," said Pip, rather staggered by this outburst. "But some good chap is bound to come along and--er--make you happy, and all that. Hasn't there ever been--anybody of that kind?" "Lots." "None you cared about, perhaps?" "Not one. Well, there was one. Jim Lister is his name. He is assistant stage-manager at the Crown Theatre." "Well?" said Pip hopefully. "I--I liked him well enough, but we should always have been poor--awfully poor--and--" "If a couple are really fond of each other, nothing else matters a damn," said Pip, with conviction. "Sorry! I mean you might do worse." Lottie rounded on him.