Fletcher had joined a yachting party next day and he would be away
for a week. During that week Christie thought over the matter, and
fancied she had made up her mind. She recalled certain speeches she
had heard, and which had more weight with her than she suspected.
One dowager had said to another: "P. F. intends to marry, I assure
you, for his sister told me so, with tears in her eyes. Men who have
been gay in their youth make very good husbands when their wild oats
are sowed. Clara could not do better, and I should be quite content
to give her to him."

"Well, dear, I should be sorry to see my Augusta his wife, for
whoever he marries will be a perfect slave to him. His fortune would
be a nice thing if he did not live long; but even for that my
Augusta shall not be sacrificed," returned the other matron whose
Augusta had vainly tried to captivate "P. F.," and revenged herself
by calling him "a wreck, my dear, a perfect wreck."

At another time Christie heard some girls discussing the eligibility
of several gentlemen, and Mr. Fletcher was considered the best match
among; them.

"You can do any thing you like with a husband a good deal older than
yourself. He's happy with his business, his club, and his dinner,
and leaves you to do what you please; just keep him comfortable and
he'll pay your bills without much fuss," said one young thing who
had seen life at twenty.

"I'd take him if I had the chance, just because everybody wants him.
Don't admire him a particle, but it will make a jolly stir whenever
he does marry, and I wouldn't mind having a hand in it," said the