I love my Victor the better for his love of you.

Oh!--poor soul--how he is perverted since that building of Lakelands! He cannot take soundings of the things he does.

Formerly he confided in me, in all things: now not one;--I am the chief person to deceive.

If only he had waited! We are in a network of intrigues and schemes, every artifice in London--tempting one to hate simple worthy people, who naturally have their views, and see me an impostor, and tolerate me, fascinated by him:--or bribed--it has to be said.

There are ways of bribeing.