Yes, the best thing I can do is to marry Christopher; I care for him so little that the lady in Paris won’t matter to me, even if she is like Sir Charles’s Poulet à la Victoria aux truffes. He is such a gentleman, he will at least be kind to me and refined and considerate; and the Carruthers’ emeralds are divine, and just my stones. I shall have them reset by Cartier. The lace, too, will suit me, and the sables, and I shall have the suite that Mrs. Carruthers used at Branches done up with pale green, and burn all the Early Victorians. And no doubt existence will be full of triumphs and pleasure. But oh! I wish, I wish it were possible to obtain “both.” 300, PARK STREET, _Friday night_. LUNCHEON passed off very well. Sir Charles returned from the City improved in temper, and, as Lady Ver had predicted, presented her with a Cartier jewel. It was a brooch, not a ring, but she was delighted, and purred to him. He was a little late and we were seated, a party of eight, when he came in. They all chaffed him about Paris, and he took it quite good-humouredly--he even seemed pleased. He has no wit, but he looks like a gentleman, and I daresay as husbands go he is suitable. I am getting quite at home in the world, and can talk to any one. I listen and I do not talk much, only when I want to say something that makes them think. A very nice man sat next me to-day, he reminded me of the old generals at Branches. We had quite a war of wits, and it stimulated me. He told me, among other things, when he discovered who I was, that he had known papa--papa was in the same Guards with him--and that he was the best-looking man of his day. Numbers of women were in love with him, he said, but he was a faithless being and rode away. “He probably enjoyed himself, don’t you think so? and he had the good luck to die in his zenith,” I said. “He was once engaged to Lady Merrenden, you know. She was Lady Sophia Vavasour then, and absolutely devoted to him, but Mrs. Carruthers came between them and carried him off; she was years older than he was, too, and as clever as paint.” “Poor papa seems to have been a weak creature, I fear.” “All men are weak,” he said. “And then he married and left Mrs. Carruthers, I suppose?” I asked. I wanted to hear as much as I could. “Yes--e--s,” said my old Colonel. “I was best man at the wedding----” “And what was she like, my mamma?” “She was the loveliest creature I ever saw,” he said; “as lovely as you, only you are the image of your father, all but the hair, his was fair.” “No one has ever said I was lovely before. Oh! I am so glad if you think so,” I said. It did please me. I have often been told I am attractive and extraordinary, and wonderful, and divine--but never just lovely. He would not say any more about my parents, except they hadn’t a _sou_ to live on, and were not very happy; Mrs. Carruthers took care of that.