“Never fear. Well, you have done the best you could. No use regretting what cannot be recalled. You cannot have the security of conventionality along with the self-respect of sincerity. By the bye, do you remember that Jasper and his fond mamma and George had a family council after dinner? You may be sure that George has told them everything.” “What! Then my wretched attempt to have Marmaduke warned was useless. Oh, Nelly, this is too bad. Do you really think so? When I told him before dinner what Mrs. Leith Fairfax wrote, he only said he feared it was true, and refused to give me the address.” “And so threw you back on Conolly. I am glad the responsibility rests with George. He knew very well that it was true; for he had only just been telling Jasper. Jasper told me as much in the plantation. Master Georgy has no right to be your brother. He is worse than a dissenter. Dissenters try to be gentlemen; but George has no misgivings about himself on that score; so he gives his undivided energy to his efforts to be parsonic. He is an arrant hypocrite.” “I dont think he is a hypocrite. I think he sincerely believes that his duty to the Church requires him to behave as he does.” “Then he is a donkey, which is worse.” “I wish he were more natural in his manner.” “He is natural enough. It is always the same with parsons: ‘it is their nature to.’ Good-night. Men are all the same, my dear, all the same.” “How do you mean?” “Never mind. Good-night.” CHAPTER V A little removed from a pretty road in West Kensington, and communicating with it by a shrubbery and an iron gate, there stood at this time a detached villa called Laurel Grove. On the opposite side were pairs of recently built houses, many of them still unlet. These, without depriving the neighbourhood of its suburban quietude, forbade any feeling of rustic seclusion, and so made it agreeable to Susanna Conolly, who lived at Laurel Grove with Marmaduke Lind. One morning in September they were at breakfast together. Beside each was a pile of letters. Marmaduke deferred opening his until his hunger was satisfied; but Susanna, after pouring out tea for him, seized the uppermost envelope, thrust her little finger under the flap, and burst it open. “Hm,” she said. “First rehearsal next Monday. Here he is at me again to make the engagement renewable after Christmas. What an old fool he must be not to guess why I dont want to be engaged next spring! Just look at the _Times_, Bob, and see if the piece is advertized yet.” “I should think so, by Jupiter,” said Marmaduke, patiently interrupting his meal to open the newspaper. “Here is a separate advertisement for everybody. ‘The latest Parisian success. _La petite Maison du Roi._ Music by M. de Jongleur. Mr. Faulkner has the honor to announce that an adaptation by Mr. Cribbs of M. de Jongleur’s opera bouffe _La petite Maison du Roi_, entitled King Lewis on the lewis’—what the deuce does that mean?” “On the loose, of course.”