But in that matter of his bread the fate of Adolphus Crosbie had by this time been decided for him, and he had reconciled himself to fate that was now inexorable.  Some very slight patrimony, a hundred a year or so, had fallen to his share.  Beyond that he had his salary from his office, and nothing else; and on his income, thus made up, he had lived as a bachelor in London, enjoying all that London could give him as a man in moderately easy circumstances, and looking forward to no costly luxuries,—­such as a wife, a house of his own, or a stable full of horses.  Those which he did enjoy of the good things of the world would, if known to John Eames, have made him appear fabulously rich in the eyes of that brother clerk.  His lodgings in Mount Street were elegant in their belongings.  During three months of the season in London he called himself the master of a very neat hack.  He was always well dressed, though never overdressed.  At his clubs he could live on equal terms with men having ten times his income.  He was not married.  He had acknowledged to himself that he could not marry without money; and he would not marry for money.  He had put aside from him, as not within his reach, the comforts of marriage.  But—­ We will not, however, at the present moment inquire more curiously into the private life and circumstances of our new friend Adolphus Crosbie.

After the sentence pronounced against him by Lilian, the two girls remained silent for awhile.  Bell was, perhaps, a little angry with her sister.  It was not often that she allowed herself to say much in praise of any gentleman; and, now that she had spoken a word or two in favour of Mr Crosbie, she felt herself to be rebuked by her sister for this unwonted enthusiasm.  Lily was at work on a drawing, and in a minute or two had forgotten all about Mr Crosbie; but the injury remained on Bell’s mind and prompted her to go back to the subject.  “I don’t like those slang words, Lily.”

“What slang words?”

“You know what you called Bernard’s friend.”

“Oh; a swell.  I fancy I do like slang.  I think it’s awfully jolly to talk about things being jolly.  Only that I was afraid of your nerves I should have called him stunning.  It’s so slow, you know, to use nothing but words out of a dictionary.”

“I don’t think it’s nice in talking of gentlemen.”

“Isn’t it?  Well, I’d like to be nice—­if I knew how.”

If she knew how!  There is no knowing how, for a girl, in that matter.  If nature and her mother have not done it for her, there is no hope for her on that head.  I think I may say that nature and her mother had been sufficiently efficacious for Lilian Dale in this respect.

“Mr Crosbie is, at any rate, a gentleman, and knows how to make himself pleasant.  That was all that I meant.  Mamma said a great deal more about him than I did.”

“Mr Crosbie is an Apollo; and I always look upon Apollo as the greatest—­you know what—­that ever lived.  I mustn’t say the word, because Apollo was a gentleman.”