Railing was invited to luncheon at St. Gregory’s Vicarage. Canon Spratte, though making no more than a passing, facetious reference to the connection with Winnie, behaved very politely. He was friendly and even cordial. The girl knew that both he and Lady Sophia examined her lover critically, and though she thought herself detestable, she could not help watching him also, nervously, in case he committed a solecism. But he was so frank, so natural, that everything he did gained a peculiar charm, and his good looks made Winnie love him each moment more devotedly. She was curious to know her aunt’s opinion; but that the elderly lady took care neither by word nor manner to give, till she was asked outright. “My dear, if you love him, and your father approves, I don’t think there’s anything more to be said,” she smiled. “I suppose he’ll go into Parliament when you’re married, and I dare say it’s not a bad thing that he’s a Radical. The Liberals want clever young men with good connections, and doubtless your father will be able to get him made something or other.” “He wouldn’t consent to be made anything,” said Winnie, with scornful pride. “After he’s been married a few years he’ll no doubt take anything he can get,” answered Lady Sophia, mildly. “Ah, but you don’t understand, we don’t want to think of ourselves, we want to think of others.” “Have you ever faced the fact that people will ask you to their parties, but won’t dream of asking him?” “D’you think I should go anywhere without my husband?” “I’m afraid you’ll be rather bored,” suggested Lady Sophia. Winnie reflected over this for a moment; then, chasing away a frown of indecision from her face, glanced happily at her aunt. “At all events, you’ll allow that he’s very handsome.” “Certainly,” said Lady Sophia. “I have only one fault to find with him. Aren’t his legs a little short? I wonder if he can wear a frock-coat without looking stumpy.” “Fortunately, he’s absolutely indifferent to what he wears,” laughed Winnie. “Yes, I’ve noticed that; his clothes look as if they were bought ready-made. You must really take him to a good tailor.” Canon Spratte would much have liked to inspect Mrs. Railing and her daughter, but feared to excite Winnie’s suspicion. He contented himself with urging Bertram to take her to Peckham; and when he made the suggestion, watched the youth keenly for signs of disinclination to produce his people. He saw nothing. “I can’t make out if the boy is simple or crafty,” he said to himself irritably. It never struck him that Railing could have so great an affection for his mother as to be indifferent to her defects. “She’s done everything for me,” he told Winnie, when they were in the train, on their way to visit her. “My father died when I was a lad, and it’s only by her strength of will and sheer hard work that I’ve done anything at all.”