'Hist! Here she comes. I accept the responsibility. Not a word before her.' When Mr. Holwood was gone with his daughter, Sylvana fixed her pebbly eyes on her mother, and said, 'There is something wrong about that woman.' 'About what woman?' 'The Marley.' 'My dear, I know there is; she is vulgar.' 'I do not mean that. There is a mystery attached to her. Have you not observed how uneasy Winefred becomes when you speak of her?' 'She will not suffer me to speak of her at all.' 'And with Mr. Holwood it is the more conspicuous. When you were making inquiries about her, or passing remarks upon her, he turned hot and cold, and his lips and brow positively cried. He was thrown into a condition of abject embarrassment. I am really surprised, mother, that you did not see it. But then you see nothing which is not to your advantage, or to the glory of the Tomkin-Joneses. I saw through the man at once.' 'My dear, there is nothing to be seen in him save the perfect gentleman. Naturally he was distressed. I should take to my bed and never raise my head again if I knew that one of my daughters mispronounced her vowels or misplaced her prepositions.' 'It was not that that troubled and alarmed him.' 'What else can you mean?' 'There is some mystery concerning his relation with the Marley.' 'Sylvana, I will not listen to a word that savours of impropriety. Besides, I receive five guineas a week for Winefred.' 'Quite so, and for the sake of five guineas you shut your eyes.' 'Sylvana――you forget the respect due to me.' 'Your forget the respect due to yourself and to us, and to the name of Tomkin-Jones, of which you think more than you do of Jesse and me. I say you forget that when you harbour in your house a person whose antecedents are equivocal.' 'Equivocal! Goodness preserve me! I am known in Bath to be the very Pink of Propriety.' 'You run the chance of becoming only the Picotee of Propriety――that I take to be a dappled pink――if you take under your patronage a girl of whom you know nothing, and who may turn out to be――――' 'My dear, not a word. All will be right if we can cut off this woman. I do not allow what you suspect; but I can quite see that there is mischief in that woman, and that we must draw a line between her and Winefred that shall absolutely sever them for ever, in the interests of Morality.' CHAPTER XXXV THE YOUNG MAN FROM BEER To Mr. Holwood it afforded pleasure to be able to walk in Pulteney Street with a fresh, pretty daughter on his arm. For the first time for many years the old buck held up his head and strutted proudly. He had the handle of his rattan to his mouth. His white beaver hat sat jauntily on his head, a little on one side, and his gold-framed glass was in his eye.