it affected him in a different way, and he had long ceased to speak
of it.

"That selfish, frivolous woman!" sounded presently from behind the
coffee-service, not now in accents of wrath, but as the deliberate
utterance of cold judgment. "Never in all her life has she thought
of anyone but herself. What right has such a being to bring children
into the world? What can be expected of them but meanness and
hypocrisy?"

Mr. Lashmar smiled. He had just broken an imperfect tooth upon a
piece of toast, and, as usual when irritated, his temper became
ironic.

"Sweet are the uses of disappointment," he observed. "How it clears
one's vision!"

"Do you suppose I ever had any better opinion of Lady Susan?"
exclaimed his wife.

It was a principle of Mr. Lashmar's never to argue with a woman.
Sadly smiling, he rose from the table.

"Here's an article you ought to read," he said, holding out the
weekly paper. "It's fall of truth, well expressed. It may even have
some bearing on this question."

The vicar went about his long day's work, and took with him many
uneasy reflections. He bad not thought of it before breakfast, but
now it struck him that much in that pungent article on the men of