she invariably forgot the text. It
was another instance of the trickishness of her memory; she could have
remembered both the text and sermon without an effort had she not been
afraid of forgetting them.

But the thing that gave her aunt most trouble of mind was Beth's habit
of making acquaintance with all kinds of people. It was vain to warn
her, and worse than vain, for the reasons Aunt Victoria gave her for
not knowing people only excited her interest in them, and she would
wait about, watching, to see for herself, studying their habits with
the patient pertinacity of a naturalist. The drawing-room floor was
let to a lady whose husband was at sea, a Mrs. Crome. She was very
intimate with a gentleman who also lodged in the house, a friend of
her husband's, she said, who had promised to look after her during his
absence. Their bedrooms adjoined, and Beth used to see their boots
outside their doors every morning when she went down to breakfast, and
wonder why they got up so late.

"Out again together nearly all last night," Prentice remarked to Aunt
Victoria one morning; and then they shook their heads, but agreed that
there was nothing to be done. From this and other remarks, however,
Beth gathered that Mrs. Crome was going to perdition; and from that
time she had a horrid fascination for Beth, who would gaze at her
whenever she had an opportunity, with great solemn eyes dilated, as if
she were learning her by heart--as, indeed, she was--involuntarily,
for future reference; for Mrs. Crome was one of a pronounced type, as
Beth learnt eventually, when she knew the world better, an example
which helped her to recognise other specimens of the kind whenever she
met them.

She scraped acquaintance with Mrs. Crome on the stairs, at last, and
was surprised to find her as kind as could be, and was inclined to
argue from this that Prentice and Aunt Victoria must be mistaken about
her. But one evening Mrs. Crome tempted her into the drawing-room. The
gentleman was there, smoking a cigar and drinking whisky-and-water;
and there was something in the whole aspect and atmosphere of the room
that made Beth feel exceedingly uncomfortable, and wish she was out of
it immediately.

"Aren't you very dull with that old lady?" said Mrs. Crome. "I suppose
she never takes you to the theatre or anything."

"No," said Beth; "she does not approve of theatres."

"Then I suppose she doesn't approve of me?" Mrs. Crome observed
good-naturedl