This news was abroad in the middle of October, and there was a certain amount of unholy satisfaction in Marbridge.  Some of the old friends and acquaintances who Mrs. Polkington had offended, recognised the Christian duty of forgiveness, and called upon her—­to see how she bore up.  The Grayson girls, whose dance Cherie had refused at the beginning of the month, came to see her.  But they put off their call a day to suit some theatrical rehearsal; by which means they lost the entertainment they promised themselves, for by the time they did come Cherie was ready for them and, with appropriate shyness, let it be known that she herself was engaged to Mr. Brendon Smith.

At this piece of information the girls looked at one another, and neither of them could think of anything smart to say.  Afterwards they told each other and their friends that it was “quick work,” and “like those Polkingtons.”  But at the time they could only offer suitable congratulations to Cherie, who received them and carried off the situation with a charming mingling of assurance and graciousness, which was worthy of her mother.

But the Graysons were right in saying it was quick work; late one afternoon Cherie heard of Mr. Harding’s engagement; during the evening she and her mother recognised their failure; in the night she saw that Mr. Brendon Smith was her one chance of dignified withdrawal, and before the next evening she had promised to marry him.

There were some people in Marbridge who pitied Mr. Smith (only the Polkingtons put in the Brendon), but he did not need much pity, for the good reason that he knew very well what he was doing and how it was that his proposals came to be accepted.  He was fond of Cherie, and appreciated both her beauty and her several valuable qualities; but he had no illusions about her or her family, and he knew, when he made it, that his proposal would be accepted to cover a retreat.  He was not at all a humble and diffident individual, but he did not mind being taken on these terms; he even saw some advantage in it in dealing with the Polkingtons.  If there was any mistake in the matter it was Cherie when she said “Yes” to his suggestion, “Don’t you think you’d better marry me?” She probably did not know how completely she was getting herself a master.

It was not a grand engagement; Mrs. Polkington could not pretend that her son-in-law elect had aristocratic or influential connections; she said so frankly—­and her frankness, which was overstrained, was one of her most engaging characteristics.

“It is no use pretending that I should not have been more pleased if he had been better connected,” she said to those old friends and acquaintances whose Christianity led them to call.  “I share your opinion, dear Mrs. ——­” (the name varied according to circumstances) “about the value of birth; but one can’t have everything; he is a most able man, and really charming.  It is such a good thing that he is so much older than Cherie; I always felt she needed an older man to guide and care for her—­he is positively devoted to her; you know, the devotion of a man of that age is such a different thing from a boy’s affection.”