atitude, that
May and Ida had kept the knowledge of the scandal to the circle of the
family. Ethel was not even curious as to his reasons for avoiding the
Marlow house; detesting May cordially, she found it quite natural that
Jimmy should prefer to go his own way.

Vera Farlow thawed considerably before the evening was over. She was a
well-read girl, and at home it was but seldom that she met any men who
had interests outside their business or their sports. Jimmy was an
entirely new type to her, and yet, as she was well aware, he belonged to
a family whose standing was above question. Had a man of whom she knew
nothing talked as Jimmy talked, she would probably have regarded him
with a certain degree of suspicion; but there was no question of that in
the case of Mrs. Marlow's brother. Jimmy, on his part, was distinctly
attracted--Ethel saw that long before he got up to take a reluctant
farewell; and being entirely loyal to her own husband, she felt not the
slightest jealousy of Vera Farlow; in fact, as she went upstairs that
evening she was wondering whether it might not be possible to turn the
scheme, which she had once propounded more or less in a spirit of
banter, into an accomplished fact. It would be a good thing for Jimmy, a
good thing for Vera, and, perhaps most important of all, it would annoy
May Marlow and Mrs. Fenton intensely. Ethel went to bed to dream of a
gorgeous wedding, in which she played the part of fairy godmother; and
she awoke next morning more than ever determined to arrange the match.
Vera had money, Jimmy had brains, and they both belonged to families of
position. She felt she almost owed it to Jimmy to find him a wife,
whilst Vera was her dearest girl friend. Billy would help, she knew
that. Billy always did what she told him, and though he sometimes
spoiled things by laughing at the wrong time, for which she scolded him
duly and without mercy, she knew he meant to do his best. His impending
retirement had been one of her greatest triumphs. She was sick to death
of the circle of City people, of what she flippantly called "Square
milers," and that had been the main reason she had given to her husband
in urging him to give up business and go into the country.

"Let's go amongst people who don't have to catch trains, Billy," she
had urged. "I'm sure you don't get half enough enjoyment out of life
now, going up to town every day," and Billy had finally given way, on
those grounds, never suspectin