of that idiotic will.  I remember distinctly hearing that Mr. Woods was very eccentric in his last days, and I haven’t a doubt he was raving mad when, he left all his money to a great, strapping, long-legged young fellow, who is perfectly capable of taking care of himself.  Getting better, is he?  Well, I suppose I’m glad to hear it, but he’d much better have stayed in Paris—­where, I remember distinctly hearing, he led the most dissipated and immoral life, my dear—­instead of coming over here and upsetting everything.”  And again Mrs. Haggage rubbed her nose—­indignantly.

“He didn’t!” said Margaret.  “And I can’t take your money, beautiful!  And I don’t see how we can possibly come to stay with you.”

“Don’t you argue with me!” Mrs. Haggage exhorted her.  “I’m not in any temper to be argued with.  I’ve spent the morning sewing bias stripes in a bias skirt—­something which from a moral-ruining and resolution-overthrowing standpoint simply knocks the spots off Job.  You’ll take that money, and you’ll come to me as soon as you can, and—­God bless you, my dear!”

And again Margaret was kissed.  Altogether, it was a very osculatory morning for Miss Hugonin.

Mr. Jukesbury’s adieus, however, were more formal; and—­I am sorry to say it—­the old fellow went away wondering if the rich Mr. Woods might not conceivably be very grateful to the man who had saved his life and evince his gratitude in some agreeable and substantial form.

Mrs. Saumarez and Mr. Kennaston, also, were somewhat unenthusiastic in their parting.  Kennaston could not feel quite at ease with Margaret, brazen it as he might with devil-may-carish flippancy; and Kathleen had by this an inkling as to how matters stood between Margaret and Billy, and was somewhat puzzled thereat, and loved the former in consequence no more than any Christian female is compelled to love the woman who, either unconsciously or with deliberation, purloins her ancient lover.  A woman rarely forgives the man who has ceased to care for her; and rarelier still can she pardon the woman who has dared succeed her in his affections.

And besides, they were utterly engrossed with one another, and utterly happy, and utterly selfish with the immemorial selfishness of lovers, who cannot for a moment conceive that the whole world is not somehow benefited by their happiness and does not await with breathless interest the outcome of their bickerings with the blind bow-god, and from this providential delusion derive a meritorious and comfortable glow.  So Mrs. Saumarez and Mr. Kennaston parted from Margaret with kindness, it is true, but not without awkwardness.

And that was the man that almost she had loved! thought Margaret, as she gazed on the whirl of dust left by their carriage-wheels.  Gone with a few perfunctory words of sympathy!

And for my part, I think that the base Indian who threw a pearl away worth more than all his tribe was, in comparison with Felix Kennaston, a shrewd and long-headed man.  If you had given me his chances, Margaret ... but this, however, is highly digressive.