‘So you talked a good deal with Mr. Mankelow?’

’Not for long.  Now and then.  He took me down to supper—­the first time.’

’I’m afraid somebody will be a little jealous.  I shall get into trouble.  I didn’t foresee this.’

‘Somebody must treat me in a reasonable way,’ Fanny answered, with a dry laugh.

‘I’m quite sure he will,’ said Mrs. Damerel suavely.  ’But I feel myself a little responsible, you know.  Let me put you on your guard against Mr. Mankelow.  I’m afraid he’s rather a dangerous man.  I have heard rather alarming stories about him.  You see he’s very rich, and very rich men, if they’re rather handsome as well, say and do things —­you understand?’

‘Is he really very rich?’

’Well, several thousands a year, and a prospect of more when relatives die.  I don’t mean to say that he is a bad man.  He belongs to a very good family, and I believe him perfectly honourable.  He would never do any one any harm—­or, if he happened to, without meaning it, I’m quite sure he’d repair it in the honourable way.’

‘You said he was dangerous—­’

’To a young lady who is already engaged.  Confess that you think him rather good-looking.’

Having inflamed the girl’s imagination, Mrs. Damerel presently dropped the subject, and fell again into weary silence.

At noon of the next day she received a call from Horace, who found her over tea and toast in her private sitting-room.  The young man looked bilious; he coughed, too, and said that he must have caught fresh cold last night.

’That house was like an oven.  I won’t go to any more such places.  That isn’t my idea of enjoying myself.’

Mrs. Damerel examined him with affectionate solicitude, and reflected before speaking.

‘Haven’t you been living rather fast lately?’

He avoided her eyes.

‘Not at all.’

‘Quite sure?  How much money have you spent this last month?’

‘Not much.’

By careful interrogation—­the caressing notes of her voice seemed to convey genuine feeling—­Mrs. Damerel elicited the fact that he had spent not less than fifty pounds in a few weeks.  She looked very grave.

‘What would our little Fanny say to this?’

‘I don’t care what she would say.’

And he unburdened himself of his complaints against the frivolous charmer, Mrs. Damerel listening with a compassionate smile.

‘I’m afraid it’s all too true, dear boy.  But didn’t I warn you?’

’You have made her worse.  And I more than half believe you have purposely put her in the way of that fellow Mankelow.  Now I tell you plainly’—­his voice quivered—­’if I lose her, I’ll raise all the money I can and play the very devil.’

’Hush! no naughty words!  Let us talk about something else till you are quieter.—­What did you think of Mrs. Chittle?’

‘I thought nothing of her, good or bad.’