“It is such a privilege to be on visiting terms with the nobility,” said Mrs Lupex.  “When I was a girl, I used to be very intimate—­”

“You ain’t a girl any longer, and so you’d better not talk about it,” said Lupex.  Mr Lupex had been at that little shop in Drury Lane after he came down from his scene-painting.  “My dear, you needn’t be a brute to me before all Mrs Roper’s company.  If, led away by feelings which I will not now describe, I left my proper circles in marrying you, you need not before all the world teach me how much I have to regret.”  And Mrs Lupex, putting down her knife and fork, applied her handkerchief to her eyes.

“That’s pleasant for a man over his meal, isn’t it?” said Lupex, appealing to Miss Spruce.  “I have plenty of that kind of thing, and you can’t think how I like it.”

“Them whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder,” said Miss Spruce.  “As for me myself, I’m only an old woman.”

This little ebullition threw a gloom over the dinner-table, and nothing more was said on the occasion as to the glories of Eames’s career.  But, in the course of the evening, Amelia heard of the encounter which had taken place at the railway station, and at once perceived that she might use the occasion for her own purposes.

“John,” she whispered to her victim, finding an opportunity for coming upon him when almost alone, “what is this I hear?  I insist upon knowing.  Are you going to fight a duel?”

“Nonsense,” said Johnny.

“But it is not nonsense.  You don’t know what my feelings will be, if I think that such a thing is going to happen.  But then you are so hard-hearted!”

“I ain’t hard-hearted a bit, and I’m not going to fight a duel.”

“But is it true that you beat Mr Crosbie at the station?”

“It is true.  I did beat him.”

“Oh, John! not that I mean to say you were wrong, and indeed I honour you for the feeling.  There can be nothing so dreadful as a young man’s deceiving a young woman; and leaving her after he has won her heart—­particularly when she has had promise in plain words, or, perhaps, even in black and white.”  John thought of that horrid, foolish, wretched note which he had written.  “And a poor girl, if she can’t right herself by a breach of promise, doesn’t know what to do.  Does she, John?”

“A girl who’d right herself that way wouldn’t be worth having.”

“I don’t know about that.  When a poor girl is in such a position, she has to be aided by her friends.  I suppose, then, Miss Lily Dale won’t bring a breach of promise against him.”

This mention of Lily’s name in such a place was sacrilege in the ears of poor Eames.  “I cannot tell,” said he, “what may be the intention of the lady of whom you speak.  But from what I know of her friends, I should not think that she will be disgraced by such a proceeding.”