Already he was an accessory after the fact of Frederic's first dishonour. Could he become an aider and abettor of the second? Or, rather, having swallowed the first could he reasonably strain at the second? . . . He condemned himself for his weakness in palliating such an offence for the sake of peace. Then, rebounding from self-condemnation--(no man can keep it up for very long)--he told himself that it was not for the sake of peace but to save that poor girl from a drudging life with a man out of her own class. Then, in justice, he was forced to admit that the truth lay between the two. His final conclusion, just as dawn began to outline the window, was that the world must be much less or more simple than he had thought. The effort of deciding which the world was entirely exhausted him, and sleep came at last. In the morning he had a letter from his brother William, the first for fifteen years, announcing his return from India and settlement at Sydenham, near the Crystal Palace, where he would be glad to see Francis, his wife, or any of his children. How many were there? He, William, had two. Francis handed it over to his wife just as Frederic came down. "Aren't you going to congratulate Frederic, my dear?" asked Mrs. Folyat. Frederic looked across at his father with malicious defiance in his eyes. Francis opened another letter and ignored the question. Mrs. Folyat returned to the charge. "My dear, Frederic is to be congratulated." "I am as delighted," replied Francis, "as Frederic is himself." Frederic viciously sliced off the top of an egg. Mrs. Folyat seemed to be satisfied. She read William's letter. "That will be very nice," she said. "Gertrude could stay with them on her way back from the Folkestone Folyats." Frederic went to the door and bawled peevishly to Annette to bring his coffee. "Annette," observed Francis, "is not a servant." "I know," returned Frederic, "but I can't be late." Annette appeared with Frederic's coffee. He gave her no thanks, and she returned to cook breakfast for Serge, Minna, and Gertrude. (Mary was away on a visit.) "I think," said Francis, "I think Annette might be the first to stay with William." "Annette!" Mrs. Folyat swept her out of consideration. "Annette! She has no clothes." Frederic gulped down his coffee and hurried away. "It will be time," said Mrs. Folyat, "it will be time to think of Annette when Gertrude and Mary and Minna are married." "And suppose they never marry?" "Of course they will marry." Serge came down in Frederic's dressing-gown, and shortly afterwards Minna and Gertrude followed him. "Any news?" asked Minna. "My dear . . ." Mrs. Folyat wriggled with excitement. "My dear. What do you think? Frederic took me and Jessie to the pantomime last night; I thought it vulgar and most unsuitable for children. And what do you think? Frederic and Jessie are engaged." "How clever of you, ma," said Minna. "I! I was entirely taken by surprise." Minna grinned: