carriages were taking away the guests.

Lord Alfred had taken sundry glasses of champagne, and for a moment
forgot the bills in the safe, and the good things which his boys were
receiving. 'Damn that kind of nonsense,' he said. 'Call people by
their proper names.' Then he left the house without a further word to
the master of it. That night before they went to sleep Melmotte
required from his weary wife an account of the ball, and especially of
Marie's conduct. 'Marie,' Madame Melmotte said, 'had behaved well, but
had certainly preferred "Sir Carbury" to any other of the young men.'
Hitherto Mr Melmotte had heard very little of Sir Carbury, except that
he was a baronet. Though his eyes and ears were always open, though he
attended to everything, and was a man of sharp intelligence, he did
not yet quite understand the bearing and sequence of English titles.
He knew that he must get for his daughter either an eldest son, or one
absolutely in possession himself. Sir Felix, he had learned, was only
a baronet; but then he was in possession. He had discovered also that
Sir Felix's son would in course of time also become Sir Felix. He was
not therefore at the present moment disposed to give any positive
orders as to his daughter's conduct to the young baronet. He did not,
however, conceive that the young baronet had as yet addressed his girl
in such words as Felix had in truth used when they parted. 'You know
who it is,' he whispered, 'likes you better than any one else in the
world.'

'Nobody does;--don't, Sir Felix.'

'I do,' he said as he held her hand for a minute. He looked into her
face and she thought it very sweet. He had studied the words as a
lesson, and, repeating them as a lesson, he did it fairly well. He did