She had a knack of monopolising Hubert, and since his return from London, her desire to do so had become almost a determination.  Hubert showed no disinclination, and after breakfast they were to be seen together in the gardens.  Hubert was a great catch, and there were other young ladies eager to be agreeable to him; but he did not seem to desire flirtation with any.  So they came to speak of him as a very clever man, no doubt; but as they knew nothing about plays, he very probably did not care to talk to them.  Hubert was not attractive in general society, and he would soon have failed to interest them at all had it not been for Emily.  She was proud of her influence over him, and for the first time showed a desire to go into society.  Day by day her conversation turned more and more on tennis-parties, and she even spoke about a ball.  He consented to take her; and he had to dance with her, and she refused nearly every one, saying she was tired, leading Hubert away for long conversations in the galleries and on the staircases.  Hubert had positively nothing to say to her; but she seemed quite happy as long as she was with him.  And as they drove through the dawn Emily chattered of a hundred trifles,—­what Edith had said, what Mabel wore, of the possibility of a marriage, and the arrival of a detachment of some cavalry regiment.  Hubert found it hard to affect interest in these conversations.  His brain was weary with waltz tunes, the shape of shoulders, and the glare and rustle of silk; but as she chattered, rubbing the misted windows from time to time, so as to determine how far they were from home, he wondered if he should ever marry, and half playfully he thought of her as his wife.

But without warning his dreams were broken by a sudden thought, and he said—­

’Another time, I think it will be better, my dear Emily, that Mrs. Bentley should take you out.’

’Why should you not take me out?...  I suppose you don’t care to—­I bore you.’

’No; on the contrary, I enjoy it—­I like to see you amused; but I think you should have a proper chaperon.’

Emily did not answer; and a little cloud came over her face.  Hubert thought she looked even prettier in her displeasure than she had done in her joy; and he went to sleep thinking of her.  Never had he thought her so beautiful—­never had she touched him with so personal an interest; and next morning, when he lounged in his study, he was glad to hear her knock at the door; and the half-hour he spent with her there, yielding to her pleading to come for a walk with her, or drive her over to Southwater in the dog-cart, was one of unalloyed pleasure.  But a few days after, as he lay in bed, a new idea came to him for his third act.  So he said he would have breakfast in his study.  He dressed, thinking the whole time how he could round off his idea and bring it into the act.  So clear and precise did it seem in his mind that he sat down immediately after breakfast, forgetting even his matutinal cigar, and wrote with a flowing pen.  He had left orders that he was not to be disturbed; and was annoyed when the door opened and Emily entered.