"Do you think that I am going to pretend about it, or to dispute as to the exact shade of my iniquity? I talk to Sir Nugent, and I let him pay me compliments--of course they are the airiest and most elegant compliments, like the little epigrammatic speeches in a comedy--and I sing the songs he recommends me to sing, and I read the books he begs me to read, and I have allowed him to bring me ferns from the fernery at Howden Park; and I suppose all that constitutes a flirtation of a very abominable character. But after all, Cecil, why shouldn't I flirt, if it amuses me to do so?" "But, Florence----" "But, Cecil, who cares about my flirtations? Mr. Lobyer does not; and I suppose if he is satisfied, other people may let me go my own way. Mr. Lobyer likes to see Sir Nugent dancing attendance upon me, because Sir Nugent is one of the best men in the county, and his hanging about Pevenshall improves Mr. Lobyer's position _auprès de_ Manchester. I know I am a very worthless creature, Cecil; but I am not utterly iniquitous; and I try to do my duty to my husband after a fashion. If I saw that my flirting annoyed him, I would turn district-visitor, and never open my lips except to talk of charity-schools and new iron churches." "But how do you know that Mr. Lobyer is not annoyed? Some men are so reserved upon such points." "I know that he is almost always at Manchester; and that when he is at home he is generally in the billiard or smoking-room. Please, Cecil, don't say any more about it. There are some things that won't bear talking of. Tell me how you like the bells; they do give you the idea of a sledge, don't they?" Nothing could be more charming than the vivacity of Mrs. Lobyer's manner as she turned to her friend with this frivolous question; and yet only a moment before she had been very much in earnest, and the face half averted from Cecil had been a very sad one. They drove for some miles along a pleasant country road, and then turned into a lane. "I think we had better go home by Gorsemoor," said Flo; "I know you like that wild bleak open country." They had emerged from the lane on to the wide hard road which skirted the broad stretch of common land called Gorsemoor, where Flo espied a little group of country people clustered at a spot where two roads crossed, and where there was a little wayside inn. "You may depend they are waiting for some of the hunting-party," exclaimed Mrs. Lobyer. "Look out, Cecil; do you see any signs of pink in the distance?" "Yes, I see two or three red coats coming across the common, and a lady." "A lady? Yes, it is a lady! Who can it be? I know no lady about here who hunts. It must be a stranger; shall we stop and indulge our curiosity, Cecil?" "If you like."