“Not bad things to know something about, either of them,” said he, quietly; “but not exactly what I was alluding to. It is, however, somewhat amusing, mother, to see you come out as his defender. I assure you, honestly, when I counselled him on that new wig, and advised him to the choice of that dark velvet paletot, I never contemplated his making a conquest of you.” “He _has_ done some unwise things in life,” said she, with a fierce energy; “but I do not know if he has ever done so foolish a one as inviting you to come to live under his roof.” “No, mother; the mistake was his not having done it earlier,--done it when he might have fallen in more readily with the wise changes I have introduced into his household, and when--most important element--he had a better balance at his banker's. You can't imagine what sums of money he has gone through.” “I know nothing--I do not desire to know anything--of Sir William's money matters.” Not heeding in the slightest degree the tone of reproof she spoke in, he went on, in the train of his own thoughts: “Yes! It would have made a considerable difference to each of us had we met somewhat earlier. It was a sort of backing I always wanted in life.” “There was something else that you needed far more,” said she, with a sarcastic sternness. “I know what you mean, mother,--I know what it is. Your politeness will not permit you to mention it. You would hint that I might not have been the worse of a little honesty,--is n't that it? I was certain of it. Well, do you know, mother, there's nothing in it,--positively nothing. I 've met fellows who have tried it,--clever fellows too, some of them,--and they have universally admitted it was as great a sham as the other thing. As St. John said, Honesty is a sort of balloon jib, that will bowl you along splendidly with fair weather; but when it comes on to blow, you'll soon find it better to shift your canvas and bend a very different sail. Now, men like myself are out in all kinds of weather; we want a handy rig and light tackle.” “Is Lucy coming to luncheon?” said Lady Lendrick, most unmistakably showing how little palatable to her was his discourse. “Not she. She's performing devoted mother up at the Priory, teaching Regy his catechism, or Cary her scales, or, what has an infinitely finer effect on the surrounders, dining with the children. Only dine with the children, and you may run a-muck through the Decalogue all the evening after.” And with this profound piece of morality he adjusted his hat before the glass, trimmed his whiskers, gave himself a friendly nod, and walked away. CHAPTER VIII. TWO MEN WELL MET