country-house visiting which had given them pleasant intonations. I
could see the sunny drawing-rooms, sprinkled with periodicals she
didn't read, in which Mrs. Monarch had continuously sat; I could see
the wet shrubberies in which she had walked, equipped to admiration
for either exercise. I could see the rich covers the Major had
helped to shoot and the wonderful garments in which, late at night,
he repaired to the smoking-room to talk about them. I could imagine
their leggings and waterproofs, their knowing tweeds and rugs, their
rolls of sticks and cases of tackle and neat umbrellas; and I could
evoke the exact appearance of their servants and the compact variety
of their luggage on the platforms of country stations.

They gave small tips, but they were liked; they didn't do anything
themselves, but they were welcome. They looked so well everywhere;
they gratified the general relish for stature, complexion and "form."
They knew it without fatuity or vulgarity, and they respected
themselves in consequence. They were not superficial; they were
thorough and kept themselves up--it had been their line. People with
such a taste for activity had to have some line. I could feel how,
even in a dull house, they could have been counted upon for
cheerfulness. At present something had happened--it didn't matter
what, their little income had grown less, it had grown least--and
they had to do something for pocket-money. Their friends liked them,
but didn't like to support them. There was something about them that
represented credit--their clothes, their manners, their type; but if
credit is a large empty pocket in which an occasional chink
reverberates, the chink at least must be audible. What they wanted
of me was to help to make it so. Fortunately they had no children--I
soon divined that. They would also perhaps wish our relations to be
kept secret: this was why it was "for the figure"--the reproduction