The poor old boy polished his brow with his pocket-handkerchief.

’When I got home I—­I told her what I thought of her, I promise you that,—­and I told her what I thought of him,—­I didn’t mince my words with her.  There are occasions when plain speaking is demanded,—­and that was one.  I positively forbade her to speak to the fellow again, or to recognise him if she met him in the street.  I pointed out to her, with perfect candour, that the fellow was an infernal scoundrel,—­that and nothing else!—­and that he would bring disgrace on whoever came into contact with him, even with the end of a barge pole.—­And what do you think she said?’

‘She promised to obey you, I make no doubt.’

’Did she, sir!—­By gad, did she!—­That shows how much you know her!—­She said, and, by gad, by her manner, and—­and the way she went on, you’d—­you’d have thought that she was the parent and I was the child—­she said that I—­I grieved her, that she was disappointed in me, that times have changed,—­yes, sir, she said that times have changed!—­that, nowadays, parents weren’t Russian autocrats—­no, sir, not Russian autocrats!—­that—­that she was sorry she couldn’t oblige me,—­yes, sir, that was how she put it, —­she was sorry she couldn’t oblige me, but it was altogether out of the question to suppose that she could put a period to a friendship which she valued, simply on account of-of my unreasonable prejudices,—­and—­and—­and, in short, she—­she told me to go the devil, sir!’

‘And did you—­’

I was on the point of asking him if he went,—­but I checked myself in time.

’Let us look at the matter as men of the world.  What do you know against Lessingham, apart from his politics?’

‘That’s just it,—­I know nothing.’

‘In a sense, isn’t that in his favour?’

’I don’t see how you make that out.  I—­I don’t mind telling you that I—­I’ve had inquiries made.  He’s not been in the House six years—­this is his second Parliament—­he’s jumped up like a Jack-in-the-box.  His first constituency was Harwich—­they’ve got him still, and much good may he do ’em!—­but how he came to stand for the place,—­or who, or what, or where he was before he stood for the place, no one seems to have the faintest notion.’

‘Hasn’t he been a great traveller?’

‘I never heard of it.’

‘Not in the East?’

‘Has he told you so?’

’No,—­I was only wondering, Well, it seems to me that to find out that nothing is known against him is something in his favour!’

’My dear Sydney, don’t talk nonsense.  What it proves is simply,—­ that he’s a nothing and a nobody.  Had he been anything or anyone, something would have been known about him, either for or against.  I don’t want my daughter to marry a man who—­who—­who’s shot up through a trap, simply because nothing is known against him.  Ha-hang me, if I wouldn’t ten times sooner she should marry you.’