Lady Aurora looked a little surprised; then she said, “Oh, I see; you don’t like—you don’t like—” She hesitated: he saw she was going to say that he didn’t like the idea of going in, to that extent, for a trade; but he stopped her in time from attributing to him a sentiment so foolish, and declared that what he meant was simply that the only faculty he possessed was the faculty of doing his little piece of work, whatever it was, of liking to do it skillfully and prettily, and of liking still better to get his money for it when it was done. His conception of ‘business’, or of rising in the world, didn’t go beyond that. “Oh yes, I can fancy!” her ladyship exclaimed; but she looked at him a moment with eyes which showed that he puzzled her, that she didn’t quite understand his tone. Before he went away she inquired of him, abruptly (nothing had led up to it), what he thought of Captain Sholto, whom she had seen that other evening in Audley Court. Didn’t Hyacinth think he was very odd? Hyacinth confessed to this impression; whereupon Lady Aurora went on anxiously, eagerly: “Don’t you consider that—that—he is decidedly vulgar?” “How can I know?” “You can know perfectly—as well as any one!” Then she added, “I think it’s a pity they should—a—form relations with any one of that kind.” ‘They’, of course, meant Paul Muniment and his sister. “With a person that may be vulgar?” Hyacinth asked, regarding this solicitude as exquisite. “But think of the people they know—think of those they are surrounded with—think of all Audley Court!” “The poor, the unhappy, the labouring classes? Oh, I don’t call _them_ vulgar!” cried her ladyship, with radiant eyes. The young man, lying awake a good deal that night, laughed to himself, on his pillow, not unkindly, at her fear that he and his friends would be contaminated by the familiar of a princess. He even wondered whether she would not find the Princess herself rather vulgar. XX