To a drama of this description, a lover is necessary, if the
complications are to be of interest to the outside world. Harry
Sennett, a pleasant-looking enough young fellow, in spite of his
receding chin, was possessed, perhaps, of more good intention than
sense. Under the influence of Edith's stronger character he was
soon persuaded to acquiesce meekly in the proposed arrangement.
Both succeeded in convincing themselves that they were acting
nobly. The tone of the farewell interview, arranged for the eve of
the wedding, would have been fit and proper to the occasion had
Edith been a modern Joan of Arc about to sacrifice her own
happiness on the altar of a great cause; as the girl was merely
selling herself into ease and luxury, for no higher motive than the
desire to enable a certain number of more or less worthy relatives
to continue living beyond their legitimate means, the sentiment was
perhaps exaggerated. Many tears were shed, and many everlasting
good-byes spoken, though, seeing that Edith's new home would be
only a few streets off, and that of necessity their social set
would continue to be the same, more experienced persons might have
counselled hope. Three months after the marriage they found
themselves side by side at the same dinner-table; and after a
little melodramatic fencing with what they were pleased to regard
as fate, they accommodated themselves to the customary positions.

Blake was quite aware that Sennett had been Edith's lover. So had
half a dozen other men, some younger, some older than himself. He
felt no more embarrassment at meeting them than, standing on the
pavement outside the Stock Exchange, he would have experienced
greeting his brother jobbers after a settling day that had
transferred a fortune from their hands into his. Sennett, in
particular, he liked and encouraged. Our whole social system,