ing also of her
frivolity and childishness. He told her that his only complaint of
her was that she was too young, and, as he did so, she made a little
grimace,--not to him, but to herself, as though saying to herself
that that was all he knew about it. He did not notice it, or, if he
did, his notice did not stop his eloquence. He assured her that he
was far from keeping any watch over her, and declared that she had
altogether mistaken Mrs Marsham's character. Then there was another
little grimace. "There's somebody has mistaken it worse than I have,"
the grimace said. Of the bristly baboon he condescended to say
nothing, and he wound up by giving her a cold kiss, and saying that
he would meet her at Lady Monk's.

When the evening came,--or rather the night,--the carriage went first
for Mrs Marsham, and having deposited her at Lady Monk's, went back
to Park Lane for Lady Glencora. Then she had herself driven to St
James's Square, to pick up Lady Jane, so that altogether the coachman
and horses did not have a good time of it. "I wish he'd keep a
separate carriage for her," Lady Glencora said to her cousin
Jane,--having perceived that her servants were not in a good humour.
"That would be expensive," said Lady Jane. "Yes, it would be
expensive," said Lady Glencora. She would not condescend to make any
remark as to the non-importance of such expense to a man so wealthy
as her husband, knowing that his wealth was, in fact, hers. Never to
him or to any other,--not even to herself,--had she hinted that much
was due to her because she had been magnificent as an heiress. There
were many things about this woman that were not altogether what a
husband might wish. She was not softly delicate in all her ways; but
in disposition and temper she was altogether generous. I do not know
that she was at all points a lady, but had Fate so willed it she
would have been a thorough gentleman.

Mrs Marsham was by no means satisfied with the way in which she was
treated. She would not have cared to go at all to Lady Monk's party
had she supposed that she would have to make her entry there alone.
With Lady Glencora she would have seemed to receive some of that
homage which would certainly have been paid to her companion. The
carriage called, moreover, before she was fully ready, and the
footman, as he stood at the door to hand her in, had been very sulky.
She understood it all. She knew that Lady Glencora had positively
declined her companion