t he is well off. He is a very fortunate man,--very
fortunate,--very fortunate."

"Of course we think so," said Bell. "Not, however, because he is
rich."

"No; not because he is rich. But because, being worthy of such
happiness, his circumstances should enable him to marry, and to enjoy
it."

"Yes, exactly," said Bell. "That is just it." Then she sat down, and
in sitting down put an end to the conversation. "That is just it,"
she had said. But as soon as the words were spoken she declared to
herself that it was not so, and that Crofts was wrong. "We love him,"
she said to herself, "not because he is rich enough to marry without
anxious thought, but because he dares to marry although he is not
rich." And then she told herself that she was angry with the doctor.

After that Dr Crofts got off towards the door, and stood there by
himself, leaning against the wall, with the thumbs of both his hands
stuck into the armholes of his waistcoat. People said that he was a
shy man. I suppose he was shy, and yet he was a man that was by no
means afraid of doing anything that he had to do. He could speak
before a multitude without being abashed, whether it was a multitude
of men or of women. He could be very fixed too in his own opinion,
and eager, if not violent, in the prosecution of his purpose. But he
could not stand and say little words, when he had in truth nothing
to say. He could not keep his ground when he felt that he was not
using the ground upon which he stood. He had not learned the art of
assuming himself to be of importance in whatever place he might find
himself. It was this art which Crosbie had learned and by this art
that he had flourished. So Crofts retired and leaned against the wall
near the door; and Crosbie came forward and shone like an Apollo
among all the guests. "How is it that he does it?" said John Eames to
himself, envying the perfect happiness of the London man of fashion.

At last Lily got the dancers out upon the lawn, and then they managed
to go through one quadrille. But it was found that it did not answer.
The music of the single fiddle which Crosbie had hired from Guestwick
was not sufficient for the purpose; and then the grass, though it was
perfect for purposes of croquet, was not pleasant to the feet for
dancing.

"This is very nice," said Bernard to his cousin. "I don't know
anything that could be nicer; but perhaps--"

"I know what you mean," said Lily. "But I shall stay here. There'