ze of houses into the fibre of whose structure architects
have wrought the motto: "Keep what you have--wives, money, a good
address, and all the blessings of a moral state!"

Shelton pondered as he passed house after house of such intense
respectability that even dogs were known to bark at them. His blood was
still too hot; it is amazing what incidents will promote the loftiest
philosophy. He had been reading in his favourite review an article
eulogising the freedom and expansion which had made the upper middle
class so fine a body; and with eyes wandering from side to side he
nodded his head ironically. "Expansion and freedom," ran his thoughts:
"Freedom and expansion!"

Each house-front was cold and formal, the shell of an owner with from
three to five thousand pounds a year, and each one was armoured against
the opinion of its neighbours by a sort of daring regularity. "Conscious
of my rectitude; and by the strict observance of exactly what is
necessary and no more, I am enabled to hold my head up in the world. The
person who lives in me has only four thousand two hundred and fifty-five
pounds each year, after allowing for the income tax." Such seemed the
legend of these houses.

Shelton passed ladies in ones and twos and threes going out shopping, or
to classes of drawing, cooking, ambulance. Hardly any men were seen, and
they were mostly policemen; but a few disillusioned children were being
wheeled towards the Park by fresh-cheeked nurses, accompanied by a great
army of hairy or of hairless dogs.

There was something of her brother's large liberality about Mrs.
Shelton, a tiny lady with affectionate eyes, warm cheeks, and chilly
feet; fond as a cat of a chair by the fire, and full of the sympathy
that has no insight. She kissed her son at once with rapture, and, as
usual, began to talk of his engagement. For the first time a tremor of
doubt ran through her son; his mother's view of it grated on him like
the sight of a blue-pink dress; it was too rosy. Her splendid optimism,
damped him; it had too little traffic with the reasoning powers.

"What right," he asked himself, "has she to be so certain? It seems to
me a kind of blasphemy."

"The dear!" she cooed. "And she is coming back to-morrow? Hurrah! how I
long to see her!"

"But you know, mother, we've agreed not to meet again until July."

Mrs. Shelton rocked her foot, and, holding her head on one side like a
little bird, looked at her son with shining ey