“What’s it good for, any way?”

“For the ducks,” says Mr. Gower, who is always there.  An answer to any question under the sun comes as naturally to him as sighing to the sad.

“Oh, well, I’m not a duck,” says she prettily; whereupon Mr. Gower whispers something to her that makes her laugh, and drives Captain Marryatt to frenzy.

He comes forward.

“Lady Rylton is talking of getting up something to pass the time;” says he, regarding Mrs. Chichester with a frowning brow—­a contortion that fills that frivolous young woman’s breast with pure joy.

“May the heavens be her bed!” says Mr. Gower, who has spent some years in Ireland, and has succeeded in studying the lower orders with immense advantage to himself, but not very much to others.  He has, at all events, carried off from them a good deal of the pleasant small-talk, whereas they had only carried off from him a wild wonder as to what he was and where born, and whether he ought or ought not to be inside a lunatic asylum.  They had carried off also, I am bound to add, a considerable amount of shillings.  “Lady Rylton!” to Tita, who has just come up, “is this a reality or a mere snare?  Did you say you thought you could put us successfully through this afternoon without reducing us to the necessity of coming to bloodshed?” Here he looks, first at Captain Marryatt, who providentially does not see the glance, and then at Mrs. Chichester, who laughs.

“I’m not sure.  I haven’t quite thought it out,” says Tita.  “What would you suggest, Margaret?” to Miss Knollys.  “Or you, Tom?” to a tall young man who has followed in her quick little progress across the room.

He is her cousin, Tom Hescott.  He is so very much taller than she is, that she has to look up at him—­the top of her head coming barely to a level with his shoulder.  She smiles as she asks her question, and the cousin smiles back at her.  It suddenly occurs to Sir Maurice, who has strolled into the room (and in answer to a glance from Mrs. Bethune is going to where she stands), that Tom Hescott is extraordinarily handsome.

And not handsome in any common way, either.  If his father had been a duke, he could not have shown more breeding in look and gesture and voice.  The fact that “Uncle Joe,” the sugar merchant, was his actual father, does not do away with his charm; and his sister, Minnie Hescott, is almost as handsome as he is!  All at once Rylton seems to remember what his wife had said to him a few weeks ago, when they were discussing the question of their guests.  She had told him he need not be afraid of her relations; they were presentable enough, or something like that.  Looking at Tom Hescott at this moment, Sir Maurice tells himself, with a grim smile, that he is, perhaps, a little too presentable—­a sort of man that women always smile upon.  His grim smile fades into a distinct frown as he watches Tita smiling now on the too presentable cousin.