Hilarie pointed to the door contemptuously, as one dismisses a messenger or a boy; not in the tragic vein at all, but by a little gesture of her forefinger. Dick threw the door open with a gesture of command. Humphrey obeyed, with an effort at preserving some appearance of dignity. To be found out under such circumstances, to be exposed in such a manner, to be ordered off the premises so contemptuously, would make the proudest of men leave the room with the appearance of ignominy. "Molly, my dear," said Hilarie, "when you think of the man and what he is, you will never regret him." She laid her head upon Hilarie's shoulder with a deep, deep sigh. "One doesn't like a man making love to somebody else at the same time. But I dare say I shall get over that. And then--oh, my dear Hilarie, it is such a relief! I cannot tell you what a relief. For, you know, sometimes I seem to think that I did consent." "And as for my other cousin here?" "Dick," said Molly, "the fiddle is very light to carry. I shan't feel the weight of it--not a bit. Are you satisfied, Dick?" CHAPTER XXII. THE CLAN AGAIN. Once more the relations met together, this time by invitation. They would have preferred separate and individual treatment. Each one received a letter, inviting him or her to the hotel on the afternoon of such a day. Each came expectant, hopeful, confident; and their faces dropped when they found, each in turn, that all had been invited together. They mounted the stairs; they entered the room; they stood about or they sat down in silence. If they spoke, it was to remark in murmurs on the interesting motives of certain persons in connection with rich cousins. The broken one, shabbier than ever, sat hanging his head. "I wouldn't ha' come," he said aloud, "if I'd expected a crowd like this." But the draper of Mare Street, Hackney, stood erect, his hand thrust into his bosom, as one who is gently rocked and lulled upon his own motives, as upon the cradle of the deep. Presently John Haveril came in, accompanied by Dick, who attended as a kind of private secretary, and took no part in the proceedings until the end. John carried in his hand a bundle of papers. "Well," he said, "you're all come, I think--all come." He turned over the papers, and nodded to the writer of each letter in turn. "All come. I invited you all to come." He spoke gravely and with dignity--in his most dignified manner. "First, sir"--the self-constituted spokesman offered his hand--"we trust that you continue in good health, in the midst of your truly colossal responsibilities." "Yes, sir, yes--I continue pretty well." Again he looked round. "Perhaps you will all sit down." "I, for one, should be ashamed to sit." The draper spoke with reproach in his voice, for the rest had taken chairs. "Ashamed, sir, while you are standing."