CHAPTER X.
Newman continued to see his friends the Tristrams with a good deal of frequency, though if you had listened to Mrs.Tristram's account of the matter you would have supposed that they had been cynically repudiated for the sake of grander acquaintance.

"We were all very well so long as we had no rivals--we were better than nothing.

But now that you have become the fashion, and have your pick every day of three invitations to dinner, we are tossed into the corner.

I am sure it is very good of you to come and see us once a month; I wonder you don't send us your cards in an envelope.

When you do, pray have them with black edges; it will be for the death of my last illusion." It was in this incisive strain that Mrs.Tristram moralized over Newman's so-called neglect, which was in reality a most exemplary constancy.