question of marriage, Mr.
Austin."

"But if one can afford a romance? What's the use of being rich?"

"No, no, it's the poor people who can go in for romance. They've nothing
to lose! Divide nothing a year between two--or, presently, four--and
still it's no less."

"But the rich have nothing to gain--except romance."

"Oh, yes, sometimes. At the time of the Coronation I had quite a quarrel
with Jack because he wasn't a peer. He said I ought to have thought of
it before, but I said that that would have been quite disloyal." She
lowered her voice to a discreet whisper. "I do hope she's not distressed
about this morning?"

"A little, I'm afraid. Octon had his interesting side for her."

"I'm so sorry! I must be very nice to her after dinner."

Lady Aspenick was very "nice" to Jenny after dinner, and so were all of
them. She seemed to take new rank that evening--to undergo a kind of
informal but very real adoption into the inner circle of families which
made the local society. She was no longer a stranger entertaining them;
she had become one of themselves. This could not all be reward for
ostracizing Octon. Lady Aspenick's conversation, in itself not
remarkable for depth or originality, was a surface sign of another
current of opinion bearing strongly on Jenny's position. But no doubt
acquiescence in the ostracism was a condition precedent both to the
adoption and to that remoter prospect which inspired it.

Jenny's eyes were very clear. After they had all gone, I returned to the
drawing-room to bid her good night. Chat had already scuttled off to
bed--dinner parties kept her up later than was to her liking. Jenny was
leaning her elbow on the mantelpiece.

"Well," she said, "I've been good--and I've had my sugar-plums."

"Yes, and they've got plenty more for you if you go on being good."

"Oh, yes." Her voice sounded tired, and her face looked strained.

"Even some very big ones!"

Up to now she had shown no sign of resenting the pressure put upon her;
she had been sorrowful, but had displayed no anger. She did not even now
challenge the justice of Fillingford's decision; but she broke out into
a rage against the control claimed over herself.

"They force me to things," she said in a low voice, but in a tone full
of feeling. "They tell me I must do this or do that, or else I can't be
one of them, I can't rank with them, I can't, I suppose, marry Lord
Fillingford! Well, I yield where I must, but sometimes I