'Well, I really do think, Mr. Egremont, that you are taking up things for which you are not--not exactly suited, you know.' She said it with the prettiest air of patronage, looking at him for a moment, then, as usual, letting her eyes wander about the room. 'Miss Tyrrell,' he replied, with gravity that was half genuine, 'tell me for what I _am_ exactly suited, and you will do me a vast kindness.' She reflected. 'Oh, there are lots of things you do very nicely indeed. I've seen you play croquet beautifully. But I've always thought it a pity you weren't a clergyman.' Walter laughed. 'Well, a local preacher is next to it.' Both were at once carried back to the evening at Ullswater. Paula kept silence; her eyes were directed towards Dalmaine, who almost at the same moment looked towards her. She played with her fan. 'You know that my uncle has been ill?' she said. 'No, I have heard nothing of that.' Paula looked surprised. 'Don't you hear from--from them?' 'I have a letter from Mr. Newthorpe very occasionally But surely the illness has not been serious?' 'Mamma heard this morning about it. I don't know what's been the matter. I shouldn't wonder if they come to London before long.' Egremont shortly changed his place, and saw that Dalmaine took the vacant seat by Paula. The two seemed to get on very well together. Paula was evidently exerting herself to be charming; Dalmaine was doing his best to trifle. He sought more information from Mrs. Tyrrell regarding Mr. Newthorpe. She seemed to fear that her brother-in-law might have been in more danger than Annabel in her letter admitted. 'They certainly must come south,' she said. 'They are having a terrible winter, and it has evidently tried Mr. Newthorpe beyond his strength. You have influence with him, I believe, Mr. Egremont. Pray join me in my efforts to bring them both back to civilisation.' 'I fear my influence will effect nothing if yours fails,' said Walter. 'But Mr. Newthorpe should certainly not risk his health.' He next had a chat with Mr. John Tyrrell, junior. Paula's brother was two-and-twenty, a frankly sensual youth, of admirable temper, great in turf matters, with a genius for conviviality. Jack's health was perfect, for he had his father's habit of enjoying life without excess, and his stamina allowed a wide limit to the term moderation. Like the rest of his family, he had the secret of conciliating goodwill; there was no humbug in him, and one respected him as a fine specimen of the young male developed at enormous expense. For Egremont he had a certain reverence: a man who habitually thought was clearly, he admitted, of a higher grade than himself, and he had no objection whatever to proclaim his own inferiority. Egremont, talking with him, was half disposed to envy Jack Tyrrell. What a simple thing life was with limitless cash, a perfect digestion, and good-humour in the place of brains!