"You must be thinking of Hilda Frith," replied Lady Jim, calmly. "I cannot call myself such an angel." "No; you left that to the sailor-boy you were flirting with." "Poor boy, he doesn't know how to flirt." "You'll teach him, my dear," chuckled the old lady. "Not without fees." "Humph. His education will cost him a pretty penny." "Possibly. But I might teach him for love, after the fashion of Miss Tallentire and Lionel." "Rubbish! Joan doesn't know how to flirt." "Or to dress either. I must ask her how the Whiteley sales are getting on." "Leah!" said Lady Canvey, with a pained look. "Why have you such a bitter tongue?" "I must defend myself somehow. You wouldn't have me scratch and bite, would you?" "I would have you be more womanly and lovable, my dear." "On a thousand a year, and such a husband as I have?" "Every man is what his wife makes him." "They generally go to other men's wives to be manufactured. Besides, so far as Jim is concerned, you can't make a silk purse out of a certain animal's ear." "My dear, I am an old woman, and perhaps rather sharp-tongued at times, but I have a motherly feeling for you. Can't you give up this wild life, and go abroad to devote yourself to Jim? He has his good points, my dear, and if you would try and live more amicably with him, I am sure you would be a happy woman. Then, in a year or so, you could come back to Curzon Street, with all the debts paid, and your full income to live on. Believe me"--she laid a withered hand on Leah's beautiful arm--"I speak for the best, my dear girl." Leah smiled disdainfully. "Now that the sermon's over, can I pass round the plate?" she said cruelly. "Not for me to put money in," said Lady Canvey, with a flush. "I shan't give you a penny. It is useless talking to you, Leah; your one idea is money and enjoyment and love of admiration."