“No, my dear,” said Miss Somers; “fancy my calling you ‘my dear,’ as if you were my own sister! Do you know I begin now to forget which is a gentleman and which a lady--me that was always brought up---- But what is the good of being so very particular?--when you consider, at my time of life. Though some people think that makes no difference. Oh, no, you must never wish her any harm; but a little foolish, flighty--with nothing in her head but croquet you know, and---- Young Mr. Denbigh has so fallen off. He used to come and talk quite like---- And then he would tell my brother what he should do. My brother does not like advice, Edgar. Doctors never do. They are so used, you know---- And then about these German baths and everything. He used to tell my brother---- and he was not nice about it. Sometimes he is not very nice. He has a good heart, and all that; but doctors, you know, as a rule, never do---- And then your cousin--do you think he meant anything?---- I once thought it was Clare; but then these people are rich, and when a man like that is poor----” “I don’t know what he meant,” said Edgar; “but I am sure he can’t mean anything now, for he has left the Pimpernels.” “And I suppose he is going to you?” said Miss Somers, “for he can’t stay in the Arden Arms; now, can he? He is sure to be so particular. When men have no money, my dear--and used to fine living and all that---- And I don’t believe anything is to be had better than a chop---- Chops are greasy in such places---- And then Arthur Arden is used to things so---- But my dear, I think not, if I were you--on account of Clare. I do think not, Edgar, if you were to take my advice.” “But I fear I can’t help myself,” said Edgar, with a shadow passing over his face---- Miss Somers shook her head; but fortunately not even the gratification of giving advice could keep her long to one subject. “Well--of course Clare is like other girls, she is sure to marry somebody,” she said--“and marriage is a great risk Edgar. You shouldn’t laugh. Marriage is not a thing to make you laugh. I never could make up my mind. It is so very serious a thing, my dear. Suppose afterwards you were to see some one else? or suppose---- I never could run the risk--though of course it can’t be so bad for a gentleman---- But, Edgar, when you are going to be married--vows are nothing--I wouldn’t make any vow--but,--it is this, Edgar--it is wrong to have secrets from your wife. I have known such trouble in my day. When a man was poor, you know--and she would go on, poor thing, and never find out--and then all at once---- Oh, my dear, don’t you do that--tell her everything--that is always my--and then she knows exactly what she can do----” “But I am not going to be married,” said Edgar with a smile, which did not pass away as common smiles do, but melted over all his face.