"Yes, I was there. I'd been in the Oregon country, and I met with an accident, and got a fever, and all that; and I wanted a little rest and a mild climate, you know; and I made for San Francisco, and some fellows there told me to go to these Settlements of ours in the Pacific, and I went. I saw a good deal of Heron--he was very hospitable and that, and then this row came on. He behaved like a deuced young fool, and that's a fact." "He was not understood," said Minola, "and he has been treated very badly by the Government." "Of course he has. I told him they would treat him badly. They wouldn't understand all his concern about black fellows--how could they understand it? Why didn't he let it alone? The fellow who's out there now--you won't find him bothering about such things, you bet--as we say out West, if you will excuse such a rough expression, Miss Grey. But of course Heron has been treated very badly, and we are going to run him for Duke's-Keeton." Several visitors had now come in, and Mr. Heron contrived to change his position and cross over to the part of the room where Minola was. "Look here, Heron," Mr. St. Paul said; "you have got a staunch ally here already. Miss Grey means to wear your colors, I dare say--do they wear colors at elections now in England?--I don't know--and you had better canvass for her influence in Keeton. If I were an elector of Keeton, I'd vote for the Pope or the Sultan if Miss Grey asked me." Meanwhile Lady Limpenny was pleading her cause with Mr. Money. It may be said that Lady Limpenny was the wife of a physician who had been knighted, and who had no children. Her husband was wholly absorbed in his professional occupations, and never even thought of going anywhere with his wife, or concerning himself about what she did. He knew the Money women professionally, and except professionally, he could not be said to know anybody. Lady Limpenny, therefore, indulged all her whims freely. Her most abiding or most often recurring whim was an anxiety for the salvation of her soul; but she had passionate flirtations meanwhile with china, poetry, flowers, private theatricals, lady-helps, and other pastimes and questions of the hour. "You'll never part with that china," Mr. Money said--"you know you can't." "Oh, but my dear Money, you don't understand my feelings. You are not, you know--an old friend may say so--you are not a religious man. You have not been penetrated by what I call religion--not yet, I mean." "Not yet, certainly. Well, why don't you send to Christie and Manson's at once?" "But, my dear Money, to part with my china in _that_ way--to have it sent all about the world perhaps. Oh, no! I want to part with it to some friend who will let me come and see it now and again." "Have you thought of this, Lady Limpenny? Suppose, when you have sold it, you go to see it now and then, and covet it--covet your neighbor's goods--perhaps long even to steal it. Where is the spiritual improvement then?"