"No--but he mustn't press me! I've given him hints--and he won't take them. I can't make up my mind, Waggin. I can't! It's not only marrying him--it's the relations. Yesterday a girl I know described a week-end to me--at Hoddon Grey. A large, smart party--evening prayers in the private chapel, _before dinner_!--nobody allowed to breakfast in bed--everybody driven off to church--and such a _fuss_ about Lent! It made me shiver. I'm not that sort, Waggin--I never shall be." And as again a stream of light from a music-hall façade poured into the carriage, Waggin was aware of a flushed, rebellious countenance, and dark eyes full of some passionate feeling, not very easy to understand. "He is at your feet, dear goose!" murmured the little gray-haired lady--"make your own conditions!" "No, no!--never. Not with Edward Newbury! He seems the softest, kindest--and underneath--_iron_! Most people are taken in. I'm not." There was silence in the car. Waggin was uneasily pondering. Nothing--she knew it--would be more acceptable to Lady Coryston than this match, though she was in no sense a scheming mother, and had never taken any special pains on Marcia's behalf. Her mind was too full of other things. Still undoubtedly this would suit her. Old family--the young man himself heir presumptive to a marquisate money--high character--everything that mortal mother could desire. And Marcia was attracted--Waggin was certain of it. The mingled feeling with which she spoke of him proved it to the hilt. And yet--let not Mr. Newbury suppose that she was to be easily run to earth! In Waggin's opinion he had his work cut out for him. Covent Garden filled from floor to ceiling with a great audience for an important "first night"--there is no sight in London, perhaps, that ministers more sharply to the lust of modern eyes and the pride of modern life. Women reign supreme in it. The whole object of it is to provide the most gorgeous setting possible, for a world of women--women old and young--their beauty or their jewels, their white necks and their gray heads; the roses that youth wears--divinely careless; or the diamonds wherewith age must make amends for lost bloom and vanished years.