“Well, well!” she said. “It ain’t often I hear my virtues mentioned, and I’m afraid you’ve named a good few I can’t lay claim to. Women’s only a greater puzzle than men, in my experience, and I don’t pretend that I know half that goes to either sort.” “Character is a great mystery,” he added. “So it is then, and I don’t want to look farther than at home to know it.” Mrs. Trivett was speaking to herself rather than Philander in this speech; she did not design any confession, but he appeared to guess what was in her mind. Indeed, he did, for he had seen her in company with Dingle, which was an unusual incident at the Mill, and he heard much of the rumour that Ned and his wife were out. He had also heard of the blue mark on Medora’s arm, from Mr. Pinhey, whose operations as finisher took place in the glazing room. “And if there’s a blue mark on her arm, who knows what marks there may be hidden elsewhere?” murmured Mr. Pinhey, with horrified eyes, behind his spectacles. “As a man once married, though without a family, I can understand that,” answered Knox to Lydia. “And if I may say so, I venture respectfully to sympathise with what’s in your mind. I’ve heard about Mrs. Dingle, and nothing but kindness, for I’m sure everybody likes her, though not as well as they like you. And if it’s not pushing in, which is the last thing I would do, I should be interested to know if, between Kellock and her husband, she took the right one in your opinion.” Mrs. Trivett felt some concern that a newcomer should have learned so much of the family history. But he spoke with such propriety that she could not be annoyed. She liked Mr. Knox, and found him, as everybody else did, a good-natured and amiable person. It was true that Mr. Trood had said that Knox was “downy,” but his downiness had not yet appeared to simpler eyes. She parried his question. “You know them both—what do you think?” “I know them, but I can’t say I know her,” he answered. “However, I know her mother, if I may say so, without offence, and if Mrs. Dingle favours you, then I’d say without hesitation that she chose the right party.” “She’s like me and not like me,” explained Lydia. “I was pretty near what she is at her age.” “Better looking, I expect,” he interrupted. “No, nothing like so fine—just a little go-by-the-ground woman, same as I am now. But in character, not unlike her. And if I’d had so good a time as she has had, no doubt I should have made the same mistakes and not known reality better than her.”