and provide the beer and the bribes, I have no objection.  In that case my Law goes to the winds.  I’m bound to make a show of obedience, for he has scarcely got over my summer’s trip.  He holds me a prisoner to him for heaven knows how long—­it may be months.

“As for the heiress whom he has here to make a match for me, he and I must have a pitched battle about her by and by.  At present my purse insists upon my not offending him.  When will old men understand young ones?  I burn your letters, and beg you to follow the example.  Old letters are the dreariest ghosts in the world, and you cannot keep more treacherous rubbish in your possession.  A discovery would exactly ruin me.

   “Your purchase of a black-velvet bonnet with pink ribands, was very
   suitable.  Or did you write ‘blue’ ribands?  But your complexion can
   bear anything.

   “You talk of being annoyed when you walk out.  Remember, that no
   woman who knows at all how to conduct herself need for one moment
   suffer annoyance.

“What is the ‘feeling’ you speak of?  I cannot conceive any ‘feeling’ that should make you helpless when you consider that you are insulted.  There are women who have natural dignity, and women who have none.

“You ask the names of the gentlemen here:—­Lord Carey, Lord Wippern (both leave to-morrow), Sir John Capes, Colonel Barclay, Lord Suckling.  The ladies:—­Mrs. Gosling, Miss Gosling, Lady Carey.  Mrs. Anybody—­to any extent.

   “They pluck hen’s feathers all day and half the night.  I see them
   out, and make my bow to the next batch of visitors, and then I don’t
   know where I am.

“Read poetry, if it makes up for my absence, as you say.  Repeat it aloud, minding the pulsation of feet.  Go to the theatre now and then, and take your landlady with you.  If she’s a cat, fit one of your dresses on the servant-girl, and take her.  You only want a companion—­a dummy will do.  Take a box and sit behind the curtain, back to the audience.

“I wrote to my wine-merchant to send Champagne and Sherry.  I hope he did:  the Champagne in pints and half-pints; if not, return them instantly.  I know how Economy, sitting solitary, poor thing, would not dare to let the froth of a whole pint bottle fly out.

“Be an obedient girl and please me.

“Your stern tutor,

“Edward the First.”

He read this epistle twice over to satisfy himself that it was a warm effusion, and not too tender; and it satisfied him.  By a stretch of imagination, he could feel that it represented him to her as in a higher atmosphere, considerate for her, and not so intimate that she could deem her spirit to be sharing it.  Another dose of silence succeeded this discreet administration of speech.

Dahlia replied with letter upon letter; blindly impassioned, and again singularly cold; but with no reproaches.  She was studying, she said.  Her head ached a little; only a little.  She walked; she read poetry; she begged him to pardon her for not drinking wine.  She was glad that he burnt her letters, which were so foolish that if she could have the courage to look at them after they were written, they would never be sent.  He was slightly revolted by one exclamation:  “How ambitious you are!”