“Well, I will tell you. Her husband is here, as of course you know, and immediately after his arrival Mme. de Vigny appeared on the scene. Poor Lady Francis, who is naturally outraged at his conduct, telegraphed to De Mürger to come down, and this will, of course, make things look black for her if you do not give her your help and moral support. She does not know any ladies here, and of course she has acted imprudently.” “Yes, she has acted imprudently and stupidly. It only confirms my impression that I would rather not know her,” said his sister. “But, Helen, she is very young, and she has no one to advise her.” “She has you to advise her,” laughed Helen; “and as you are a clever, rising barrister, I should have thought you would have been wise enough to have prevented her telegraphing for her lover.” “He is not her lover,” shouted Jacynth loudly. “As to her extreme youth,” pursued his sister, unmoved at his interruption, “she has a child old enough to play cricket on the green with the tinkers and the tailors and the butcher boys of the place. She must surely be out of her teens! And if she does not know how to behave herself now, I am afraid she never will.” “Why are you so hard, Helen?” he asked, looking at his sister in surprise. “I am not hard,” she answered, “but I really fail to see why you require my aid. Lady Francis seems quite able to take care of herself. The fact is, Clitheroe,” she continued, “you must know as well as I do that the _lex talionis_ does not apply to husbands and wives. It is only in quite the lower classes that the wife throws back the sugar basin at her husband when he has aimed at her with the teapot. Men have a certain license with regard to flirtation which has always been denied to women. It may be wrong--I daresay it is--but I am not going to head any movement to bring about a change.” “I think she would listen to you if you would ask her to send M. de Mürger back to town,” said Jacynth. “As it is, they fear there may be a duel.” “And you want me to mix myself up in all this unsavory business?” she exclaimed. “Really, Clitheroe, you are very unreasonable.” “I am very sorry for Lady Francis,” he said, in a low voice. “And I suppose you are in love with her. Nothing else could explain your strange persistency. You are very foolish, and you are wasting your time. If the woman cares for anyone, I suppose it is for her curly-headed attaché. It is evident that you are only being made use of, and I am certainly not going to follow your ridiculous example. Lady Francis possesses no possible interest for me. I consider her unladylike, wanting in _savoir vivre_ and tact, and quite the last person for whom I could have any sympathy.” “She has been cruelly treated,” said Jacynth. “So have thousands of other women, but they manage to bear their cruel treatment and behave with better taste than Lady Francis.”