“I never even saw her.”

“Eyes and no eyes.  She saw you, and said, ’Oh, what a beautiful creature!’ for I heard her.  As for the old stagers, whom you admire so, their faces were all clogged with powder, the pores stopped up, the true texture of the skin abolished.  They looked downright nasty, whenever you or that young girl passed by them.  Then it was you saw to what a frightful extent women are got up in our day, even young women, and respectable women.  No, Rosa, dress can do little for you; you have beauty—­real beauty.”

“Beauty!  That passes unnoticed, unless one is well dressed.”

“Then what an obscure pair the Apollo Belvidere and the Venus de Medicis must be.”

“Oh! they are dressed—­in marble.”

Christopher Staines stared first, then smiled.

“Well done,” said he, admiringly.  “That is a knockdown blow.  So now you have silenced your husband, go you to bed directly.  I can’t afford you diamonds; so I will take care of that little insignificant trifle, your beauty.”

Mrs. Staines and Mrs. Lucas exchanged calls, and soon Mrs. Staines could no longer complain she was out of the world.  Mrs. Lucas invited her to every party, because her beauty was an instrument of attraction she knew how to use; and Miss Lucas took a downright fancy to her; drove her in the park, and on Sundays to the Zoological Gardens, just beginning to be fashionable.

The Lucases rented a box at the opera, and if it was not let at the library by six o’clock, and if other engagements permitted, word was sent round to Mrs. Staines, as a matter of course, and she was taken to the opera.  She began almost to live at the Lucases, and to be oftener fatigued than moped.

The usual order of things was inverted; the maiden lady educated the matron; for Miss Lucas knew all about everybody in the Park, honorable or dishonorable; all the scandals, and all the flirtations; and whatever she knew, she related point-blank.  Being as inquisitive as voluble, she soon learned how Mrs. Staines and her husband were situated.  She took upon her to advise her in many things, and especially impressed upon her that Dr. Staines must keep a carriage, if he wanted to get on in medicine.  The piece of advice accorded so well with Rosa’s wishes, that she urged it on her husband again and again.

He objected that no money was coming in, and therefore it would be insane to add to their expenses.  Rosa persisted, and at last worried Staines with her importunity.  He began to give rather short answers.  Then she quoted Miss Lucas against him.  He treated the authority with marked contempt; and then Rosa fired up a little.  Then Staines held his peace; but did not buy a carriage to visit his no patients.

So at last Rosa complained to Lady Cicely Treherne, and made her the judge between her husband and herself.  Lady Cicely drawled out a prompt but polite refusal to play that part.  All that could be elicited from her, and that with difficulty, was, “Why quall with your husband about a cawwige; he is your best fwiend.”