‘Frequently.’

’That’s good of you!  He’s thinking of publishing a volume of those that deal with factory legislation.  You should have heard what they said about him, at the election time!’

Paula was still charming, but it must be confessed a trifle vulgarised.  Formerly she had not been vulgar at all; at present one discerned unmistakably the influence of her husband, and of the world in which she lived.  In person, she showed the matron somewhat prematurely; one saw that in another ten years she would be portly; her round fair face would become too round and too pinky.  Mentally, she was at length formed, and to Mr. Dalmaine was due the credit of having formed her.

This gentleman did his kinsfolk the honour of calling upon them.  He had grown a little stouter; he bore himself with conscious dignity; you saw that he had not much time, nor much attention, to bestow upon unpolitical people.  He was suave and abrupt by turns; he used his hands freely in conversing.  Mr. Newthorpe smiled much during the interview with him, and, a few hours later, when alone with Annabel, he suddenly exclaimed: 

‘What an ignorant pretentious numskull that fellow is!’

‘Of whom do you speak?’

‘Why, of Dalmaine, of course.’

’My dear father!—­A philanthropist!  One of the forces of the time!’

Mr. Newthorpe leaned back and laughed.

‘Perfectly true,’ he said presently.  ’Whence we may arrive at certain conclusions with regard to mankind at large and our time in particular.  That poor pretty girl!  It’s too bad.’

‘She is happy.’

’True again.  And it would be foolish to wish her miserable.  Bell, let us join hands and go to the old ferryman’s boat together.’

’It would cost me no pang, father.  Still we will walk a little longer on the sea-shore.’

And whilst this conversation was going on, Mr. and Mrs. Dalmaine sat after dinner on the balcony of their hotel, talking occasionally.  Dalmaine smoked a cigar:  his eyes betrayed the pleasures of digestion and thought on high matters of State.

He said all at once: 

’By-the-by, Lady Wigger is at the Queen’s Hotel, I see.  You will call to-morrow.’

‘Lady Wigger?  But really I don’t think I can, dear,’ Paula replied, timidly.

‘Why not?’

‘Why, you know she was so shockingly rude to me at the Huntleys’ ball.  You said it was abominable, yourself.’

‘So it was, but you’d better call.’

‘I’d much rather not.’

Dalmaine looked at her with Olympian surprise.

‘But, my dear,’ he said with suave firmness, ’I said that you had better call.  The people must not be neglected; they will be useful.  Do you understand me?’

‘Yes, love.’

Paula was quiet for a few moments, then talked as brightly as ever. . . .