"He is not worthy of her," said Malcolm.

"Well, I confess his family won't compare with hers. There's a
grandfather in it somewhere that was a banker or a brewer or a soap
boiler, or something of the sort, and she and her people have been
earls and marquises ever since they walked arm in arm out of the
ark. But, bless you! all that's been changed since I came to town.
So long as there's plenty of money and the mind to spend it, we have
learned not to be exclusive. It's selfish that. It's not Christian.
Everything lies in the mind to spend it though. Mrs Tredger--
that's our lady's maid--only this is a secret--says it's all
settled--she knows it for certain fact--only there's nothing
to be said about it yet--she's so young, you know."

"Who was the man that sat nearly opposite my lady, on the other
side of the table?" asked Malcolm.

"I know who you mean. Didn't look as if he'd got any business there
--not like the rest of them, did he? No, they never do. Odd and
end sort of people like he is, never do look the right thing--
let them try ever so hard. How can they when they ain't it? That's
a fellow that's painting Lady Lossie's portrait! Why he should
be asked to dinner for that, I'm sure I can't tell. He ain't paid
for it in victuals, is he? I never saw such land leapers let into
Lossie House, I know! But London's an awful place. There's no such
a thing as respect of persons here. Here you meet the butcher, the
baker, the candlestick maker, any night in my lady's drawing room.
I declare to you, Mawlcolm MacPhail, it makes me quite uncomfortable
at times to think who I may have been waiting upon without knowing
it. For that painter fellow, Lenorme they call him, I could knock