“Then I shall stay here and compromise you,” said Gerald, preparing to sit down again. “Well”--she lowered her voice, with a glance towards the door of communication with the next room--“my mother has a concert on Thursday night.” Captain Mauleverer brightened up. “But if you come to it, I sha’n’t let you speak to me.” “Won’t you?” He walked slowly towards her. As Captain Mauleverer went out of the room by one door to go down-stairs and out of the house, Lady Victoria went through the other into the presence of her mother and Mr. Despencer. SCENE III THE SLAVE OF ALDERMAN DOBBIN “Yes, mother?” Lady Victoria bowed slightly to Despencer, who had risen at her entrance, and walked across to where the marchioness was seated. The marchioness gazed at her daughter as if she had been a chimney-sweeper. “You dreadful child! You know this is my day, and you come in like that! Have you no regard for people’s feelings?” Victoria smiled disdainfully. “I suppose you mean Mr. Despencer’s feelings?” she observed. “I mean the feelings of society,” returned her mother sternly. “You are more like an anarchist than a well-bred girl.” Lady Victoria indulged in the tiniest of yawns. “I think the anarchists are very interesting people,” she remarked. “If it weren’t for them, there would be nothing to read about in the papers.” “There would be China,” returned the marchioness in a shocked voice. The marchioness considered herself a politician. Her husband had once been Master of the Deerhounds. “Bother China!” said Lady Victoria, dropping into a chair. “Is that what you sent for me about?” The marchioness raised her eyes in mute appeal to the ceiling. “I sent for you because I wanted to speak to you privately before anybody comes.” Despencer, who had been about to sit down again, stood up, and moved towards the door. The marchioness recalled him. “Where are you going?” “I thought you wanted to be alone.” “Don’t be absurd! I don’t count you.” “Perhaps Lady Victoria does,” Despencer suggested, with a rather nervous glance in her direction. Lady Victoria did not condescend to return the look. “Pray, don’t trouble yourself about me, Mr. Despencer,” she said, negligently. “I assure you I never know that you are in the room.” “Don’t be rude, Victoria!” said her mother, more crossly than she had spoken yet. “Mr. Despencer is one of your best friends.” “I suppose that means he has been saying something unpleasant about me?” was the retort. Despencer ventured to interpose. “I may be a poet, but my imagination doesn’t carry me so far as that,” he said, in his most insinuating tones. Lady Victoria gave him one crushing look, and turned to the marchioness. “My dear mother, I wish you wouldn’t train Mr. Despencer to say these silly things. Surely he is not a suitor for my hand?”