or, and Rawdon will win
every shilling from him if he does not take care. Why don't you
prevent him, you little careless creature? Why don't you come to us of
an evening, instead of moping at home with that Captain Dobbin? I dare
say he is tres aimable; but how could one love a man with feet of such
size? Your husband's feet are darlings--Here he comes. Where have you
been, wretch? Here is Emmy crying her eyes out for you. Are you
coming to fetch me for the quadrille?" And she left her bouquet and
shawl by Amelia's side, and tripped off with George to dance. Women
only know how to wound so. There is a poison on the tips of their
little shafts, which stings a thousand times more than a man's blunter
weapon. Our poor Emmy, who had never hated, never sneered all her
life, was powerless in the hands of her remorseless little enemy.

George danced with Rebecca twice or thrice--how many times Amelia
scarcely knew. She sat quite unnoticed in her corner, except when
Rawdon came up with some words of clumsy conversation: and later in
the evening, when Captain Dobbin made so bold as to bring her
refreshments and sit beside her. He did not like to ask her why she
was so sad; but as a pretext for the tears which were filling in her
eyes, she told him that Mrs. Crawley had alarmed her by telling her
that George would go on playing.

"It is curious, when a man is bent upon play, by what clumsy rogues he
will allow himself to be cheated," Dobbin said; and Emmy said,
"Indeed." She was thinking of something else. It was not the loss of
the money that grieved her.

At last George came back for Rebecca's shawl and flowers. She was
going away. She did not even condescend to come back and say good-bye
to Amelia. The poor girl let her husband come and go without saying a
word, and her head fell on her breast. Dobbin had been called away,
and was whispering deep in conversation with the General of the
division, his friend, and had not seen this last parting. George went
away then with the bouquet; but when he gave it to the owner, there lay
a note, coiled like a snake among the flowers. Rebecca's eye caught it
at once. She had been used to deal with notes in early life. She put
out her hand and took the nosegay. He saw by her eyes as they met,
that she was aware what she should find there. Her husband hurried her
away, still too intent upon his own thoughts, seemingly, to take note
of any marks of recognition which mig