more of her money than what he's voluntarily returned
to her: their damned heathen marriage settlements take
precious good care of that. As things go over there,
Olenski's acted generously: he might have turned her
out without a penny."

The young man knew this and was silent.

"I understand, though," Mr. Letterblair continued,
"that she attaches no importance to the money. Therefore,
as the family say, why not let well enough alone?"

Archer had gone to the house an hour earlier in full
agreement with Mr. Letterblair's view; but put into
words by this selfish, well-fed and supremely indifferent
old man it suddenly became the Pharisaic voice of a
society wholly absorbed in barricading itself against the
unpleasant.

"I think that's for her to decide."

"H'm--have you considered the consequences if she
decides for divorce?"

"You mean the threat in her husband's letter? What
weight would that carry? It's no more than the vague
charge of an angry blackguard."

"Yes; but it might make some unpleasant talk if he
really defends the suit."