Mildmay did not make any reply to this remonstrance. Perhaps after he had said it, he felt, as so many impulsive men are apt to do, a hot nervous shame for having said it, and betraying his feelings; but he would not discuss the question with the Ascotts, who had no self-reproach in the matter, no idea that any one could have helped it. They discussed the question now, the first shock being over, and a comfortable Sunday put between them and the event, with great calm. "He was just the sort of man that would not even have his life insured," said Mr. Ascott. "What those poor girls are to do, I do not know. Go out for governesses, I suppose, poor things! the common expedient; but then there are those babies. There ought to be an Act of Parliament against second families. I never had any patience with that marriage; and Miss Brown, I suppose, had no friends that could take them up?" "None that I know of," his wife replied. "It is a dreadful burden for those girls. It will hamper them in their situations, if they get situations, and keep them from marrying----" "They are pretty girls," said Mr. Ascott. "I don't see why they shouldn't marry." "That is all very well, Henry," she replied; "but what man, in his senses, would marry a girl with a couple of children dependent on her?" "A ready-made family," he said, with a laugh. This was on the Sunday evening after dinner. It was dusk, and they could not see their guest's face, who took no part in the conversation. To hear such a discussion as this, touching the spoiling of a girl's marriage, is quite a commonplace matter, which the greater part of the world would think it foolishly fastidious to object to, and probably Mr. Mildmay had heard such talk upon other occasions quite unmoved; but it is astonishing the difference it makes when you know the girl thus discussed, and have, let us say, "a respect" for her. He felt the blood come hot to his face; he dared not say anything, lest he should say too much. Was it mere poverty that exposed those forlorn young creatures, whose case surely was sad enough to put all laughter out of court, to such comment? Mrs. Ascott thought it quite possible that Mr. Mildmay, fresh from Oxford, might consider female society frivolous, and was reserving himself for loftier conversation with her husband, and that this was the reason of his silence, so she went away smiling, rustling her silken skirts to the drawing-room, in the humility which becomes the weaker vessel, not feeling herself equal to that loftier strain, to make the gentlemen's tea.