‘The month of her colours.’

‘Her money troubles are terrible.’

’Both of you appear unlucky in your partners,—­if winning was the object.  She shall have all the distractions we can offer.’

‘Your visit to the Chartreuse alarmed her.’

‘She has rejoiced her husband.’

‘A girl.  She feared the Jesuit in your friend.’

‘Feltre and she are about equally affected by music.  They shall meet.’

’Russett, this once:  I do entreat you to take counsel with your good sense, and remember that you stand where you are by going against my advice.  It is a perfect storm over London.  The world has not to be informed of your generosity; but a chivalry that invites the most horrible of sneers at a man!  And what can I say?  I have said it was impossible.’

‘Add the postscript:  you find it was perfectly possible.’

‘I have to learn more than I care to hear.’

‘Your knowledge is not in request:  you will speak in my name.’

‘Will you consult your lawyers, Russett, before you commit yourself?’

‘I am on my way to Lady Arpington.’

‘You cannot be thinking how serious it is.’

‘I rather value the opinion of a hard-headed woman of the world.’

‘Why not listen to me?’

‘You have your points, ma’am.’

‘She’s a torch.’

‘She serves my purpose.’

Livia shrugged sadly.  ’I suppose it serves your purpose to be unintelligible to me.’

He rendered himself intelligible immediately by saying, ’Before I go—­ a thousand?’

‘Oh, my dear Russett!’ she sighed.

‘State the amount.’

She seemed to be casting unwieldly figures and he helped her with, ’Mr. Isaacs?’

‘Not less than three, I fear.’

‘Has he been pressing?’

‘You are always good to us, Russett.’

’You are always considerate for the honour of the family, ma’am.  Order for the money with you here to-morrow.  And I thank you for your advice.  Do me the favour to follow mine.

‘Commands should be the word.’

‘Phrase it as you please.’

‘You know I hate responsibility.’

’The chorus in classical dramas had generally that sentiment, but the singing was the sweeter for it.’

‘Whom do you not win when you condescend to the mood, you dear boy?’

He restrained a bitter reply, touching the kind of persons he had won:  a girl from the mountains, a philosophical tramp of the roads, troops of the bought.

Livia spelt at the problem he was.  She put away the task of reading it. 
He departed to see Lady Arpington, and thereby rivet his chains.