"Violet can pop in on you at any moment, and she'll clinch the matter and bind you with her cobwebs before you can escape." "Oh, Lord!" "You know you are dead sick of her, Michael--and you know that I am not the sort of man who would ever speak of a woman thus without grave reason; but she does not care for you any more than the half a dozen others who occupied your proud position before your day--it is only for money and the glory of having you tied to her apron strings.

It was not any good hammering on while the passion was upon you; but I have watched you, and have seen that it is waning, so now's my time.

With this danger in front of you, you have got to pull yourself together, old boy, and cut and run." "That would be no use--" Then Michael stammered a little.

"I say, Henry, I won't hear a word against her.

You can thunder at me--but leave her out." Mr.Fordyce smiled.
"Did she express deep grief at poor Maurice's condition in her letter ?" he asked.
"Er--no--not exactly----" "I thought not--she probably suggested all sorts of joys with you when she is free!" There was an ominous silence.
Mr.Fordyce's voice now took on that crisp tone which his adversaries in the House of Commons so well knew meant that they must look to their guns.
"Delightful woman! A spider, I tell you, a roaring hypocrite, too, bamboozling poor Rose into thinking her a virtuous, persecuted little darling, with a noble passion for you, and my sister is a downright person not easily fooled.