Lady Carey ignored the remark and continued, “I always feared Gwen would have a fatal influence over you. But what could I do? It is so difficult to weed out one’s friends when one belongs to a certain set.” “My dear mother, Gwen was saved in time, for she would have turned into a Lady Vera had not Society’s foundations suddenly collapsed. She had been taught all the tricks of a perfect woman of the world, and would have even outdistanced Lady Vera, for she possessed more brains and more animal spirits. So, you see, there is still hope for a Sinclair to develop into a paragon of virtue, to suit even your fastidious ideal of a son-in-law.” “My dear Eva, pray do not accuse me of such a Philistine notion as to require in my son-in-law any of the qualities absolutely needed in a bank accountant or in a land agent. Heaven forbid! I am larger minded than that, and I know that a man must live. You see, Sinclair is all right, and we all run after him and make love to him, and look forward to the clever sayings that drop from his cynical lips; but”—a pout was on her lips, as she looked for the proper word to express her sentiment—“well, he is not what we are accustomed to consider a—gentleman. It is extraordinary how these upstarts end by believing they can do anything. His father was tutor to Lord Farmiloe’s son; and, instead of going into the army as his father wished him to do, Sinclair, after leaving Oxford, began to dabble in questionable journalism, and soon developing that wonderful power of criticism, he became the terror of all artists, known or unknown. I know, perhaps better than most women, what it is to suffer from a man who does not consider his wife’s love all-sufficient to his happiness.” Lady Carey relaxed her hard expression, her eyes were for one instant dimmed by a passing mist, and her lips trembled, whilst a lump rose in her throat; but it was soon over. “Your father _was_ a gentleman, and I could not wish a daughter of mine to have a more courteous man for a husband. He treated me, before the world, as he ought to have treated the woman who bore his name, and carried on his numerous intrigues with the discipline and gallantry of a true soldier, who held his sword at the service of his king, and his soul at the mercy of his God, but brooked no restraint nor reproach from anyone in this world.” “What a convenient way of dismissing all moral obligations,” remarked Eva. “When you have seen as much of the world as I have, my dear Eva, you will know that philosophy plays a large part in our social training, and helps to soften the coarseness of life. We leave the rioting of the mind to the plebeian classes, who have not, like us, to keep up appearances and traditions of _bienséance_.”