swered Lord Henry. "I fancy that the boy will be well
off. He is not of age yet. He has Selby, I know. He told me so. And...
his mother was very beautiful?"

"Margaret Devereux was one of the loveliest creatures I ever saw, Harry.
What on earth induced her to behave as she did, I never could
understand. She could have married anybody she chose. Carlington was mad
after her. She was romantic, though. All the women of that family were.
The men were a poor lot, but, egad! the women were wonderful. Carlington
went on his knees to her. Told me so himself. She laughed at him, and
there wasn't a girl in London at the time who wasn't after him. And by
the way, Harry, talking about silly marriages, what is this humbug your
father tells me about Dartmoor wanting to marry an American? Ain't
English girls good enough for him?"

"It is rather fashionable to marry Americans just now, Uncle George."

"I'll back English women against the world, Harry," said Lord Fermor,
striking the table with his fist.

"The betting is on the Americans."

"They don't last, I am told," muttered his uncle.

"A long engagement exhausts them, but they are capital at a
steeplechase. They take things flying. I don't think Dartmoor has a
chance."

"Who are her people?" grumbled the old gentleman. "Has she got any?"

Lord Henry shook his head. "American girls are as clever at concealing
their parents as English women are at concealing their past," he said,
rising to go.

"They are pork-packers, I suppose?"

"I hope so, Uncle George, for Dartmoor's sake. I am told that
pork-packing is the most lucrative profession in America, after
politics."

"Is she pretty?"

"She behaves as if she was beautiful. Most American women do. It is the
secret of their charm."

"Why can't these American women stay in their own country? They are
always telling us that it is the Paradise for women."

"It is. That is the reason why, like Eve, they are so excessively
anxious to get out of it," said Lord Henry. "Good-bye, Uncle George. I
shall be late for lunch, if I stop any longer. Thanks for giving me the
information I wanted. I always like to know everything about my new
friends, and nothing about my old ones."

"Where are you lunching, Harry?"

"At Aunt Agatha's. I have asked myself and Mr. Gray. He is her latest
_protege_."

"Humph! tell your Aunt Agatha, Harry, not to bother me any more with her
charity appeals. I am sick of them. Why, the good woman thinks