'Well, I don't know that we'll discuss that point,' Dalmaine replied, twiddling his thumbs. 'There's no information to hand.' 'I don't believe it! I tell you I don't believe it! Mr. Egremont is engaged to my cousin Annabel; and besides, he couldn't do such a thing. He isn't a man of that kind.' 'Your experience of men is not great, my dear Paula.' 'I don't care! I know Mr. Egremont. Even if you said he'd married her, it isn't true. You mustn't judge every man by--' 'You were going to say?' She rose and swept her train over a few yards of floor. Then she came back and stood before him. 'You tell me that people are saying this?' 'A considerable number of my respected constituents--and their wives--are saying it. Tasker shall give you judicial evidence, if you please.' 'I'm sure I'm not going to talk to Mr. Tasker. I dislike him too much to believe a word he says.' 'Of course. But he is absolutely trustworthy. I called at Egremont's this afternoon to make sure that he was away from home. Now there is something for you to talk about, Paula.' 'I shall take very good care that I don't speak a word of it to anyone. It's contemptible to make up such a story about a man just because you dislike him.' 'It seemed to me that you were not remarkably fond of him two months or so ago.' 'Did it?' she said, sarcastically. 'If I know little of men, it's certain you don't know much more of women.' He leaned back and laughed. And whilst he laughed Paula quitted the room. Paula still kept up her habit of letter-writing. After breakfast next morning she sat in her pretty boudoir, writing to Annabel. After sentences referring to Annabel's expected arrival in London for the season, she added this: 'A very shocking story has just come to my ears. I oughtn't really to repeat it to you, dear, and yet in another way it is my duty to. Mr. Egremont has disappeared, and with him the girl who was just going to marry his librarian--the poor man you know of from him. There are no means of knowing whether they have run away together to be married--or not. Everybody knows about it; it is the talk of Lambeth. My husband heard of it at once. The girl is said to be very good-looking. I wish I could refuse to believe it, but _there is no doubt whatever_. You ought to know at once; but perhaps you will have heard already. I never knew anything more dreadful, and I can't say what I feel.' There was not much more in the letter. Having fastened up the envelope, Paula let it lie on her desk, whilst she walked about the room. Each time she passed the desk she looked at the letter, and lingered a little. Once she took it up and seemed about to open it again. Her expression all this time was very strange; her colour came and went; she bit her lips, and twisted her fingers together. At length she rang the bell, and when the servant came, gave the letter to be posted immediately.