“What am I to say to her?” said Clitheroe, almost angrily. “She is waiting in the garden. I told her that you would call upon her this afternoon.” “Then you took a very unwarrantable liberty,” said his sister. “I will not call upon her. I should advise you to tell her to send De Mürger away at once.” “And then will you call upon her?” he asked eagerly. “No, I won’t,” answered his sister. “I detest fuzzy-headed little women who get on well with any man except their husband. There will be an _esclandre_ one day, and I don’t mean to be mixed up in it.” “I had no idea you were so uncharitable,” he said, with genuine surprise. “I am not the least uncharitable,” she said; “but you must admit that Lady Francis has everything against her.” “Appearances may be against her,” he said doubtfully. “And appearances in society count for everything,” said his sister. “If women wish to be original, and what you call reckless and impulsive, they must give up society, for you may be quite sure that they will meet with the cold shoulder wherever they go.” “You have certainly shown it to Lady Francis,” he said bitterly. “For the reason I have told you. As for your sentimental rubbish about her ill-treatment from her husband, she cannot have suffered so very dreadfully, as she has always had Count de Mürger to console her.” “Thank you, Helen; you have said quite enough. I am sorry I attempted to enlist your sympathy, and I am doubly sorry that I mentioned you to Lady Francis. I don’t know what I shall say to her. You have placed me in a very awkward position.” “You have placed yourself in one,” she said. “Why not leave Harrogate at once? You are only being made a tool of, and you had better let the _partie carrée_ sort itself as best it may.” Jacynth felt terribly perplexed, and he could scarcely help feeling that there was a certain amount of truth--a certain amount of worldly wisdom--in what his sister had said. Of course Fenella did not care for him, and never would. Everyone had warned him against her, and it was very foolish of him to indulge a wild dream which could never be anything but a wild dream. He was perfectly convinced of her innocence with respect to De Mürger, but evidently it was difficult to get others to share his credulity. And why should they believe that she was innocent when she allowed the man to come and stay in the hotel with her, in defiance, not only of her husband’s wishes, but also of all the laws of society and good taste? His sister’s words had been very severe and uncompromising, but he almost felt as if he must agree with her, and this feeling added to his annoyance and depression.