"That would be no use--" Then Michael stammered a little. "I say, Henry,
I won't hear a word against her. You can thunder at me--but leave her
out."

Mr. Fordyce smiled.

"Did she express deep grief at poor Maurice's condition in her letter?"
he asked.

"Er--no--not exactly----"

"I thought not--she probably suggested all sorts of joys with you when
she is free!"

There was an ominous silence.

Mr. Fordyce's voice now took on that crisp tone which his adversaries in
the House of Commons so well knew meant that they must look to their
guns.

"Delightful woman! A spider, I tell you, a roaring hypocrite, too,
bamboozling poor Rose into thinking her a virtuous, persecuted little
darling, with a noble passion for you, and my sister is a downright
person not easily fooled. At this moment, Violet is probably shedding
tears on her shoulder over poor Maurice, while she is plotting how soon
she can become mistress of Arranstoun. Good God! when I think of it--I
would rather get in a girl from the village and go through the ceremony
with her, and make myself safe, than have the prospect of Violet
Hatfield as a wife. Michael, I tell you seriously, dear boy--you won't