"You know, Letty, we shall have to pay that money," he said suddenly, pulling at his moustache. Letty made an exclamation under her breath, but went on working faster than before. He slipped down to the moss beside her, and caught her hand. "Are you angry with me?" "If you insult me by accusing me of listening behind doors you can't wonder," said Letty, snatching her hand away, her breast heaving. He felt a bitter inclination to laugh, but he restrained it, and did his best to make peace. In the midst of his propitiations Letty turned upon him. "Of course, I know you think I did it all for selfishness," she said, half crying, "because I want new furniture and new dresses. I don't; I want to protect you from being--being--plundered like this. How can you do what you ought as a member of Parliament? how can we ever keep ourselves out of debt if--if--? How _can_ you pay this money?" she wound up, her eyes flaming. "Well, you know," he said, hesitating--"you know I suggested yesterday we should sell some land to do up the house. I am afraid we must sell the laud, and pay this scoundrel--a proportion, at all events. Of course, what I should _like_ to do would be to put him--and the other--to instant death, with appropriate tortures! Short of that, I can only take the matter out of my mother's hands, get a sharp solicitor on my side to match _his_ rascal, and make the best bargain I can." Letty rolled up her work with energy, two tears of anger on her cheeks. "She _ought_ to suffer!" she cried, her voice trembling--"she _ought_ to suffer!" "You mean that we ought to let her be made a bankrupt?" he said coolly. "Well, no doubt it would be salutary. Only, I am afraid it would be rather more disagreeable to us than to her. Suppose we consider the situation. Two young married people--charming house--charming wife--husband just beginning in politics--people inclined to be friends. Then you go to dine with them in Brook Street--excellent little French dinner--bride bewitching. Next morning you see the bankruptcy of the host's mamma in the 'Times.' 'And he's the only son, isn't he?--he must be well off. They say she's been dreadfully extravagant. But, hang it! you know, a man's mother!--and a widow--no, I can't stand that. Sha'n't dine with them again!' There! do you see, darling? Do you really want to rub all the bloom off the peach?" He had hardly finished his little speech before the odiousness of it struck himself. "Am I come to talking to her like _this_?" he asked himself in a kind of astonishment. But Letty, apparently, was not astonished. "Everybody would understand if you refused to ruin yourself by going on paying these frightful debts. I am sure _something_ could be done," she said, half choked. George shook his head. "But everybody wouldn't want to understand. The dear world loves a scandal--doesn't really _like_ being amiable to newcomers at all. You would make a bad start, dear--and all the world would pity mamma."