She added presently, "He has spoken of money."

"Yes?" went Adela, in a low breath.

"Cornelia imagines that--that we--he is perhaps in--in want of it.
Merchants are, sometimes."

"Did Sir Twickenham say he would call to-morrow?" asked Adela.

"He said that most probably he would."

Wilfrid had been silent. As he entered the house, Mr. Pole's bedroom-bell
rang, and word came that he was to go to his father. As soon as the
sisters were alone, Adela groaned: "We have been hunting that girl all
day in vile neighbourhoods. Wilfrid has not spoken more than a dozen
sentences. I have had to dine on buns and hideous soup. I am half-dead
with the smell of cabs. Oh! if ever I am poor it will kill me. That damp
hay and close musty life are too intolerable! Yes! You see I care for
what I eat. I seem to be growing an animal. And Wilfrid is going to drag
me over the same course to-morrow, if you don't prevent him. I would not
mind, only it is absolutely necessary that I should see Sir Twickenham."

She gave a reason why, which appeared to Arabella so cogent that she said
at once: "If Cornelia does not take your place I will."

The kiss of thanks given by Adela was accompanied by a request for tea.
Arabella regretted that she had sent the servants to bed.

"To bed!" cried her sister. "But they are the masters, not we! Really, if
life were a round of sensual pleasure, I think our servants might
congratulate themselves."

Arabella affected to show that they had their troubles; but her statement
made it clear that the servants of Brookfield were peculiarly favoured
servants, as it was their mistress's pride to make them. Eventually Adela
consented to drink some sparkling light wine; and being thirsty she drank
eagerly, and her tongue was loosed, insomuch that she talked of things as
one who had never been a blessed inhabitant of the kingdom of Fine
Shades. She spoke of 'Cornelia's chances;' of 'Wilfrid's headstrong
infatuation--or worse;' and of 'Papa's position,' remarking that she
could both laugh and cry.

Arabella, glad to see her refreshed, was pained by her rampant tone; and
when Adela, who had fallen into one of her reflective 'long-shot' moods,
chanced to say, "What a number of different beings there are in the
world!" her reply was, "I was just then thinking we are all less unlike
than we suppose."

"Oh, my goodness!" cried Adela. "What! am I at all--at all--in the
remotest degree--like that creature we have got r