“Be as much loved as Mrs. Hauksbee. You're a darling in many ways and I like you--you are not a woman's woman--but why do you trouble yourself about mere human beings?” “Because in the absence of angels, who I am sure would be horribly dull, men and women are the most fascinating things in the whole wide world, lazy one. I am interested in The Dowd--I am interested in The Dancing Master--I am interested in the Hawley Boy--and I am interested in you.” “Why couple me with the Hawley Boy? He is your property.” “Yes, and in his own guileless speech, I'm making a good thing out of him. When he is slightly more reformed, and has passed his Higher Standard, or whatever the authorities think fit to exact from him, I shall select a pretty little girl, the Holt girl, I think, and”--here she waved her hands airily--“'whom Mrs. Hauksbee hath joined together let no man put asunder.' That's all.” “And when you have yoked May Holt with the most notorious detrimental in Simla, and earned the undying hatred of Mamma Holt, what will you do with me, Dispenser of the Destinies of the Universe?” Mrs. Hauksbee dropped into a low chair in front of the fire, and, chin in band, gazed long and steadfastly at Mrs. Mallowe. “I do not know,” she said, shaking her head, “what I shall do with you, dear. It's obviously impossible to marry you to some one else--your husband would object and the experiment might not be successful after all. I think I shall begin by preventing you from--what is it?--'sleeping on ale-house benches and snoring in the sun.'” “Don't! I don't like your quotations. They are so rude. Go to the Library and bring me new books.” “While you sleep? No! If you don't come with me, I shall spread your newest frock on my 'rickshaw-bow, and when any one asks me what I am doing, I shall say that I am going to Phelps's to get it let out. I shall take care that Mrs. MacNamara sees me. Put your things on, there's a good girl.” Mrs. Mallowe groaned and obeyed, and the two went off to the Library, where they found Mrs. Delville and the man who went by the nickname of The Dancing Master. By that time Mrs Mallowe was awake and eloquent. “That is the Creature!” said Mrs Hauksbee, with the air of one pointing out a slug in the road. “No,” said Mrs. Mallowe. “The man is the Creature. Ugh! Good-evening, Mr. Bent. I thought you were coming to tea this evening.” “Surely it was for tomorrow, was it not?” answered The Dancing Master. “I understood... I fancied... I'm so sorry... How very unfortunate!...” But Mrs. Mallowe had passed on. “For the practiced equivocator you said he was,” murmured Mrs. Hauksbee, “he strikes me as a failure. Now wherefore should he have preferred a walk with The Dowd to tea with us? Elective affinities, I suppose--both grubby. Polly, I'd never forgive that woman as long as the world rolls.” “I forgive every woman everything,” said Mrs. Mallowe. “He will be a sufficient punishment for her. What a common voice she has!”