"I did; and I don't believe a word of it. 'My poor dear Hammond' will have very little of her society this evening. Lady Mitford," he said, with a sudden change of tone, "how long do you intend to endure this kind of thing? Now I know what you are going to say; "--he put up his hand with a deferential but decided gesture, to prevent her speaking;--"I am quite aware that I have no business to talk to you about Mitford and Mrs. Hammond. I could repeat all that conventional catechism about the whole duty of men and women without a blunder; but it's all nonsense--all hypocrisy, which is worse. I am a man of the world, and you are a woman of the world, or nearly: you will very soon be completely so. Allow me to anticipate the period at which your education will be finished, and to speak to you with perfect frankness." Georgie looked at him in complete bewilderment. What did this new tone which he had assumed mean?--To insult her? No; she had no reason to think, to fear anything of that kind. Had he not done her at least one substantial service--had he not saved her from ridicule, from affording her enemy a triumph? Had not his manner been always respectful, and, in his indolent way, kind? Even while he spoke of her as "nearly" a woman of the world, she knew that he was thinking of her newness, her ignorance of that very world, and of life. Perhaps she should only expose herself to ridicule on his part now, if she shrank from hearing him. It was certain that things had gone too far--the state of affairs had become too evident--for her to affect indignation or assume prudery, without making herself supremely ridiculous; besides, there was already a tacit confidence between them, which she could neither ignore nor recall. She wished vaguely that Colonel Alsager had been there; then, that some one might come into the room; but she felt, amid her perplexity and perturbation, a strong desire to hear what he had to say to her--to learn what was the view which a man so completely of society, and so capable of interpreting its judgment, took of her position and prospects. Nervously, yet not unreadily, she assented; and Lord Dollamore, standing on the hearth-rug and looking down at her bent head and drooping eyelids, spoke in a low tone: "You are no match for Mrs. Hammond, Lady Mitford. You would not be, even if you did not labour under the insurmountable disadvantage of being Sir Charles's wife. That must be as evident to yourself--for you are wonderfully sensible and free from vanity--as it is to the lookers-on, who proverbially see most of the game. You have feeling and delicacy, and she is encumbered by no such obstacles to the attainment of any purpose she may set before her. But because you can't fight her on any ground, that's no reason why you should let her make you wretched, and, above all, ridiculous." "She cannot. I--"