"I like him very well, I'm sure," she said rather thoughtfully, and somewhat as if she had not quite decided the question in her own mind, "and I don't care a straw for any one else; and I dare say I shall behave pretty well to him, though I fear it's not in my nature to behave too well to any one. So, on the whole, I really can't see that people have any right to lecture me about the unfortunate young man I'm going to marry." After this tirade the impetuous Florence again embraced her friend, and declared herself for the twentieth time to be a frivolous mercenary creature, unworthy alike of love and friendship. But henceforward Cecil felt that it was useless to interfere with Miss Crawford's arrangements. If sorrow lay before the painter's daughter on the road that she was treading, she was too obstinately bent on going her own way to be drawn back by any friendly hand, let it hold her never so gently. Mr. Lobyer dined in Brunswick Square one evening to meet his betrothed; on which occasion the barrister subjected him to rather a severe cross-examination. Cecil ventured next morning to ask her husband what he thought of her friend's suitor. "It's rather fortunate for your friend and for the gentleman himself that he was born rich," answered Mr. O'Boyneville; "there are some men who seem created to distinguish themselves at the Old Bailey, and I'm afraid Mr. Lobyer is one of them. But as he is the owner of a million or two, it doesn't much matter. If he had been a poor man, he would have run through all the crimes in the statute-book; but as he has unlimited wealth, he can indulge himself by breaking four-fifths of the ten commandments without putting himself in the power of the law." CHAPTER XVII. POOR PHILIP. There were other men besides Laurence O'Boyneville who found it pleasant to pitch their tents and kindle their household fires within the limits of Bloomsbury. Sigismund Smythe, the novelist, believed in the neighbourhood of Russell Square as the most delightful spot on earth.