"And if a gentleman told you so?" "I shouldn't believe him a bit, and I should not care to find out. But I should like to have some girl for a friend whom I could love, oh, ten times better than myself." "So should I." "Have you no particular friend?" "I mean a girl whom I could love,--oh, ten times better than myself." "Now you are laughing at me, Sir Felix," said Miss Melmotte. "I wonder whether that will come to anything?" said Paul Montague to Miss Carbury. They had come back into the drawing-room, and had been watching the approaches to love-making which the baronet was opening. "You mean Felix and Miss Melmotte. I hate to think of such things, Mr. Montague." "It would be a magnificent chance for him." "To marry a girl, the daughter of vulgar people, just because she will have a great deal of money? He can't care for her really,--because she is rich." "But he wants money so dreadfully! It seems to me that there is no other condition of things under which Felix can face the world, but by being the husband of an heiress." "What a dreadful thing to say!" "But isn't it true? He has beggared himself." "Oh, Mr. Montague." "And he will beggar you and your mother." "I don't care about myself." "Others do though." As he said this he did not look at her, but spoke through his teeth, as if he were angry both with himself and her. "I did not think you would have spoken so harshly of Felix." "I don't speak harshly of him, Miss Carbury. I haven't said that it was his own fault. He seems to be one of those who have been born to spend money; and as this girl will have plenty of money to spend, I think it would be a good thing if he were to marry her. If Felix had £20,000 a year, everybody would think him the finest fellow in the world." In saying this, however, Mr. Paul Montague showed himself unfit to gauge the opinion of the world. Whether Sir Felix be rich or poor, the world, evil-hearted as it is, will never think him a fine fellow. Lady Carbury had been seated for nearly half an hour in uncomplaining solitude under a bust, when she was delighted by the appearance of Mr. Ferdinand Alf. "You here?" she said. "Why not? Melmotte and I are brother adventurers." "I should have thought you would find so little here to amuse you." "I have found you; and, in addition to that, duchesses and their daughters without number. They expect Prince George!" "Do they?" "And Legge Wilson from the India Office is here already. I spoke to him in some jewelled bower as I made my way here, not five minutes since. It's quite a success. Don't you think it very nice, Lady Carbury?" "I don't know whether you are joking or in earnest." "I never joke. I say it is very nice. These people are spending thousands upon thousands to gratify you and me and others, and all they want in return is a little countenance." "Do you mean to give it then?" "I am giving it them." "Ah;--but the countenance of the 'Evening Pulpit.' Do you mean to give them that?"