er, Felix?'

'Matter,--what should be the matter? There's been a gentle row among the
fellows at the club;--that's all. I had to tell Grasslough a bit of my
mind, and he didn't like it. I didn't mean that he should.'

'There is not going to be any fighting, Felix?'

'What, duelling; oh no,--nothing so exciting as that. Whether somebody
may not have to kick somebody is more than I can say at present. You
must let me go to bed now, for I am about used up.'

'What did Marie Melmotte say to you?'

'Nothing particular.' And he stood with his hand on the door as he
answered her.

'And what did you say to her?'

'Nothing particular. Good heavens, mother, do you think that a man is
in a condition to talk about such stuff as that at eight o'clock in
the morning, when he has been up all night?'

'If you knew all that I suffer on your behalf you would speak a word
to me,' she said, imploring him, holding him by the arm, and looking
into his purple face and bloodshot eyes. She was sure that he had been
drinking. She could smell it in his breath.

'I must go to the old fellow, of course.'

'She told you to go to her father?'

'As far as I remember, that was about it. Of course, he means to
settle it as he likes. I should say that it's ten to one against me.'
Pulling himself away with some little roughness from his mother's
hold, he made his way up to his own bedroom, occasionally stumbling
against the stairs.

Then the heiress herself had accepted her son! If so, surely the thing
might be done. Lady Carbury recalled to mind her old conviction that a
daughter may always succeed in beating a hard-hearted parent in a
contention about marriage, if she be well in earnest. But then the
girl must be really in earnest, and her earnestness will depend on
that of her lover. In this case, however, there was as yet no reason
for supposing that the great man would object. As far as outward signs
went, the great man had shown some partiality for her son. No doubt it
was Mr Melmotte who had made Sir Felix a director of the great
American Company. Felix had also been kindly received in Grosvenor
Square. And then Sir Felix was Sir Felix,--a real baronet. Mr Melmotte
had no doubt endeavoured to catch this and that lord; but, failing a
lord, why should he not content himself with a baronet? Lady Carbury
thought that her son wanted nothing but money to make him an
acceptable suitor to such a father-in-law as Mr Melmotte;--not money in
t