Talboys interrupted him.  “I really must call you to order.  You are prejudiced against poor Mrs. Bazalgette, and prejudice blinds everybody.  Politeness required that she should show some attention to her neighbor, but her principal attention was certainly not bestowed on Mr. Dodd.”

Fountain was surprised.  “On whom, then?”

“Well, to tell the truth, on your humble servant.”

Fountain stared.  “I observed she did not neglect you; but when she turned to Dodd her face puckered itself into smiles like a bag.”

“I did not see it, and I was nearer her than you,” said Talboys coldly.

“But I was in front of her.”

“Yes, a mile off.”  There being no jurisconsult present to explain to these two magistrates that if fifty people don’t see a woman pucker her face like a bag, and one does see her p. h. f. l. a. b., the affirmative evidence preponderates, they were very near coming to a quarrel on this grave point.  It was Fountain who made peace.  He suddenly remembered that his friend had never been known to change an opinion.  “Well,” said he, “let us leave that; we shall have other opportunities of watching Dodd and her; meantime I am sorry I cannot convince you of my good news, for I have some bad to balance it.  You have a rival, and he did not sit next Mrs. Bazalgette.”

“Pray may I ask whom he did sit next?” sneered Talboys.

“He sat—­like a man who meant to win—­by the girl herself.”

“Oh, then it is that sing-song captain you fear, sir?” drawled Talboys.

“No, sir, no more than I dread the epergne. Try the other side.”

“What, Mr. Hardie?  Why, he is a banker.”

“And a rich one.”

“She would never marry a banker.”

“Perhaps not, if she were uninfluenced; but we are not at Talboys Court or Font Abbey now.  We have fallen into a den of parvenues. That Hardie is a great catch, according to their views, and all Mrs. Bazalgette’s influence with Lucy will be used in his favor.

“I think not.  She spoke quite slightingly of him to me.”

“Did she?  Then that puts the matter quite beyond doubt.  Why should she speak slightingly of him?  Bazalgette spoke to me of him with grave veneration.  He is handsome, well behaved, and the girl talked to him nineteen to the dozen.  Mrs. Bazalgette could not be sincere in underrating him.  She undervalued him to throw dust in your eyes.”

“It is not so easy to throw dust in my eyes.”

“I don’t say it is; but this woman will do it; she is as artful as a fox.  She hoodwinked even me for a moment.  I really did not see through her feigned politeness in letting you take her down to dinner.”

“You mistake her character entirely.  She is coquettish, and not so well-bred as her niece, but artful she is not.  In fact, there is almost a childish frankness about her.”

At this stroke of observation Fountain burst out laughing bitterly.