of what she had said in a moment of irritation, but that they would be
better friends than ever after their little tiff."

None the less, though, for this decisive victory did the young lady
cherish her determination to settle in life without delay. Lord
Bearwarden had paid her considerable attention on the few occasions
they had met. True, he was not what the world calls a "marrying man";
but the world, in arranging its romances, usually leaves out that very
chapter--the chapter of accidents--on which the whole plot revolves.
And why should there not be a Lady Bearwarden of the present as of the
past? To land so heavy a fish would be a signal triumph. Well, it was
at least possible, if not probable. This should be a matter for future
consideration, and must depend greatly on circumstances.

In the meantime, Dick Stanmore would marry her tomorrow. Of that she
felt sure. Why? O, because she did! I believe women seldom deceive
themselves in such matters. Dick had never told her he cared for her;
after all, she had not known him many weeks, yet a certain deference
and softness of tone, a diffidence and even awkwardness of manner,
increasing painfully when they were alone, betrayed that he was her
slave. And she liked Dick, too, very much, as a woman could hardly
help liking that frank and kindly spirit. She even thought she could
love him if it was necessary, or at any rate make him a good wife, as
wives go. He would live in London, of course, give up hunting and all
that. It really might do very well. Yes, she would think seriously
about Dick Stanmore, and make up her mind without more delay.

But how to get rid of Tom Ryfe? Ignore it as she might--strive as she
would to forget it in excitement, dissipation, and schemes for the
future, none the less was the chain always round her neck. Even while