oubt there are men and women so refined and kindly in their nature
that they have absolutely no appetite for scandal--never speak it, or
listen to it, or remember what they have overheard. Sydney and his
friends were troubled by no such qualms, and, if either of them had
been, he would not have been so ill-mannered as to spoil sport for the
rest.

After dinner they had gone upstairs to the members' smoking room, in a
comfortable corner of which they were lazily continuing their
conversation. It turned by chance on a certain barrister of Sydney's
inn, a Mr. Barrington Baynes, whom one of the party not incorrectly
described as "that beautiful, bumptious, and briefless barrister, B. B."

"He gives himself great airs," said Captain Williams, a swaggering,
supercilious man, for whom Sydney had no affection, and who was not one
of Sydney's admirers. "To hear him talk one would imagine he was a high
authority on every subject under the sun, but I suspect he has very
little to go upon. Has he ever held a brief, Campion?"

"I never heard of it, if he did. One of those poor devils who take to
journalism, and usually end by going to the dogs. You will find his name
on the covers of magazines, and I fancy he does something, in the
reviewing way."

It was an unfortunate speech for Sydney to make, and Captain Williams
did not fail to seize his opportunity of giving the sharp-tongued
lawyer--who perhaps knew better how to thrust than to parry in such
encounters--a wholesome snub.

Fortune favored him. The current number of _The Decade_ was lying on the
table beside him. He took it up in a casual sort of way, and glanced at
the list of contents.

"By the bye, Campion," he said, "you are not a married man, are you? I
see magazine articles now and then signed Lettice Campion; no relation,
I suppose."

"That is my sister," Sydney answered, quietly enough. But it was plain
that the hit had told; and he was vexed with himself for being so
snobbish as to deserve a sneer from a man like Williams.

"I have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Campion two or three times
lately at Mrs. Hartley's, in Kensington," said another of the quartette.
This was none other than Brooke Dalton, whom Sydney always liked. He
spoke in a confidential undertone, with the kindly intention of covering
Sydney's embarrassment. "Mrs. Hartley is a cousin of mine; and, though I
say it, she brings some very nice people together sometimes. By the way,
have you ever