in capital
spirits over his friend's success, urged him to run over to Culverley
for a day or two, he could not well refuse.

"I am going for the Sunday," Sir John said confidentially, "but my wife
doesn't expect me to stay longer until the session is over. I run down
every week, you know, except when she's in town; but she always leaves
London in June. My sister is under her wing, and she declares that late
hours and the heat of London in July are very bad for girls. Of course,
I'm glad that she looks after my sister so well."

Sydney recognized the fact that he had never before been taken into Sir
John's confidence with respect to his domestic affairs.

"Lady Pynsent asked me the other day whether I could not get you to come
down to us," Sir John continued. "I am always forgetting her messages;
but if you can spare a couple of days now, we shall be very glad to have
you. Indeed, you must not refuse," he said, hospitably. "And you ought
to see something of the county."

Sydney had met Lady Pynsent in town. She was a large, showy-looking
woman, with fair hair and a very aquiline nose; a woman who liked to
entertain, and who did it well. He had dined at the Wentworths' house
more than once, and he began to search in his memory for any face or
figure which should recall Sir John's sister to his mind. But he could
not remember her, and concluded, therefore, that she was in no way
remarkable.

"I think I have not met Miss Pynsent," he took an opportunity of saying,
by way of an attempt to refresh his memory.

"No? I think you must have seen her somewhere. But she did not go out
much this spring: she is rather delicate, and not very fond of society.
She's my half-sister, you know, considerably younger than I am--came out
the season before last."

Another acquaintance of Sydney's privately volunteered the information
later in the day that Miss Pynsent had sixty thousand pounds of her own,
and was reputed to be clever.

"I hate clever women," Sydney said, with an inward growl at his sister
Lettice, whose conduct had lately given him much uneasiness. "A clever
woman and an heiress! Ye gods, how very ugly she must be."

His friend laughed in a meaning manner, and wagged his head
mysteriously. But what he would have said remained unspoken, because at
that moment Sir John rejoined them.

Sydney flattered himself that he was not impressible, or at least that
the outward trappings of wealth and rank did not impress him.