‘She will be dangerous if she can,’ thought Tor to himself. ‘I don’t think she can suspect _yet_; but she is on the high-road to suspicion. I hope to goodness no other fellows we ever came across, will turn up. It would become distinctly awkward if they _all_ greeted me as Torwood. By Jove! I half wish I’d never begun the game. It grows more and more complicated every week. I’d no notion it would be such a bore. However, if I only stop that marriage between Maud and young Belassis, I shan’t have had my pains for nothing. Confound that Phil! Why can’t he come to his senses and act for himself?’ Mrs. Belassis sat still in deep thought after the pair had left her; and the result of her meditations was expressed in a few words of soliloquy. ‘Well, I don’t understand things yet, and I haven’t got the clue; but I’m quite sure there’s _something_ very odd about it all.’ Matilda and Bertha were in high spirits as they dressed afresh for the ball that night. They were not staying in the house; but as they came from a distance, they remained during the interval between the two _fêtes_, and a room was allotted to them, which their cousin Maud shared. All three girls had new dresses for the occasion, and therefore, it need hardly be said, were in a high state of delight. ‘Oh, Maud, how lovely!’ was the exclamation of the sisters, as they turned and beheld the marvellous costume of creamy lace and satin and pearls in which she had just arrayed herself. ‘Why, it’s perfectly heavenly! Where did you get it? I suppose Phil gave it you?’ ‘Yes, it came from Paris—Worth, you know. Isn’t it nice! He’s a dear boy, and gives me lovely things. I almost wish he wouldn’t. He is so extravagant over me.’ ‘It’s well to be you, Maud,’ said Matilda. ‘I wish Lewis was like that; but then, he hasn’t any money. Maud, do you think Phil means ever to get married? Does he ever talk of it? Most men do, when they come into a property.’ Maud laughed, and shook her pretty head. ‘He doesn’t ever talk about it. I don’t think he does intend to, yet.’ ‘I think he ought to,’ remarked Matilda judicially. ‘A man in his position ought to have a wife. When you are married, Maud, he will have to get one.’ ‘I am not married yet,’ answered Maud, laughing. ‘Perhaps he will when I am; but I do not think he will marry you, Matilda.’ This was not spoken with a shade of malice; only with the frankness of girls brought up together, who had discussed matrimonial projects many times before. Matilda coloured, but did not seem to take offence. ‘He might do worse,’ she said. ‘I think he likes me. He was particularly nice to-day. Why do you think such a thing so impossible, Maud?’ ‘I’m almost sure he will never marry a Belassis,’ she answered gravely. ‘That is all mamma’s fault!’ cried Matilda angrily; ‘she is so rude to poor Phil.’