"London," remarked Eustace in a judicious manner, "is not one but several cities. There is the West End, which is devoted to wealth and pleasure, the East End, famous for work and poverty. The City of London proper, noted for its mercantile enterprise and its stock-broking fraternity, and finally the huge shipping town which forms the port of the Metropolis. Every person stays in the special city with which his business is connected, therefore there is no difficulty in getting about one's own particular local town, which is much smaller in the aggregate than Melbourne." "I understand all that perfectly," replied Victoria, who had listened attentively, "but suppose you chose to live on the outskirts of London, so as to get a breath of country air. In that case if you want to go to a theatre you have to travel for over an hour to get to one." "People who live as you say, are worshippers of Nature, and go to bed with the sun--they don't want the gas and glare of theatres." "Oh, anyone can argue that way," said Victoria disdainfully, "so I have nothing to say in reply. Let us talk of something else." "By all means--the weather." "And the crops. No! I am not an agriculturist." "Aunt Jelly," suggested Angus wickedly. Miss Sheldon turned towards him with a mirthful smile in her bright eyes. "What do you know of Aunt Jelly, Mr. Macjean?" she asked, putting her fan up to her lips to hide a laugh. "I know nothing; absolutely nothing," he replied, with mock humility, "beyond the fact that Gartney and Errington have both mentioned her as an eccentric character, so I wish to know more about her." If he did, his curiosity was not destined to be gratified at that moment, for, with the whimsical caprice of a woman, Victoria suddenly began to talk on quite a different subject, suggested by the casual mention of a name. "Do you like Lady Errington?" she demanded, looking from one to the other. "She is a very charming woman," said Eustace evasively. "She knows you, I believe." "Slightly! I met her at Aunt Jelly's, when she called one day." "And what is Aunt Jelly's opinion?" The girl laughed, and then, composing her features into a kind of stern severity, spoke in a harsh, measured voice: "Not what I approve of; limp! washed out, no backbone, but no doubt she'll make Guy a good wife. Not a hard thing for any woman to do seeing he's an idiot. So was his father before him, and he did not take after his mother, thank God." "The voice is the voice of Miss Sheldon," murmured Eustace, delicately manipulating a cigarette, "but the sentiments are those of my beloved aunt." "How mean you are," said Victoria, rewarding Otterburn with a bright look for having laughed at her mimicry. "I thought I did her voice to perfection.' "Nothing but a saw-mill could do that," retorted the irreverent Eustace. "So that is Aunt Jelly's opinion. It isn't flattering." "Neither is Aunt Jelly."