You are so critical, Mr Rolfe. I’ve a good mind to ask father to turn me out of house and home, with just half-a-crown. Then I might really do something. It would be splendid! – Oh, what do you think of that shameful affair in Hamilton Terrace? Mrs Carnaby takes it like an angel. They’re going to give up housekeeping. Very sensible, I say. Everybody will do it before long. Why should we be plagued with private houses?’

‘There are difficulties—’

‘Of course there are, and men seem to enjoy pointing them out. They think it a crime if women hate the bother and misery of housekeeping.’

‘I am not so conservative.’

He tried to meet her eyes, which were gleaming fixedly upon him; but his look fell, and turned as quickly from the wonderful white shoulders, the throbbing throat, the neck that showed its colour against swan’s-down. To his profound annoyance, some one intervened – a lady bringing some one else to be introduced. Rolfe turned on his heel, and was face to face with Cyrus Redgrave. Nothing could be suaver or more civil than Mr Redgrave’s accost; he spoke like a polished gentleman, and, for aught Harvey knew, did not misrepresent himself. But Rolfe had a prejudice; he said as little as possible, and moved on.

In the smaller drawing-room he presently conversed with his hostess. Mrs Frothingham’s sanguine and buoyant temper seemed proof against fatigue; at home or as a guest she wore the same look of enjoyment; vexations, rivalries, responsibilities, left no trace upon her beaming countenance. Her affectations were numberless; her ignorance, as an observer easily discovered, was vast and profound; but the desire to please, the tact of a gentlewoman, and thorough goodness of heart, appeared in all her sayings and doings; she was never offensive, never wholly ridiculous. Small-talk flowed from her with astonishing volubility, tone and subject dictated by the characteristics of the person with whom she gossiped; yet her preference was for talk on homely topics, and she had more than once amused Rolfe by her frank reminiscences of a time when she knew not luxury. ‘You may not believe it,’ she said to him in a moment of confidence, ‘but I assure you I am a very good cook.’ Rolfe did not quite credit the assurance, but he felt it not improbable that Mrs Frothingham would accept a reverse of fortune with much practical philosophy; he could imagine her brightening a small house with the sweetness of her disposition, and falling to humble duties with sprightly good-will. In this point she was a noteworthy exception among the prosperous women of his acquaintance.

‘And what have you been doing?’ she asked, not as a mere phrase of civility, but in a voice and with a look of genuine interest.

‘Wasting my time, for the most part.’

‘So you always say; but it can’t be true. I know the kind of man who wastes his time, and you’re not a bit like him. Nothing would gratify my curiosity more than to be able to watch you through a whole day. What did you think of the quartet?’

‘Capital!’

‘I’m sure they make wonderful progress, and Alma does work so hard! I’m only afraid she may injure her health.’

‘I see no sign of it yet.’

‘She’s certainly looking very well,’ said Mrs Frothingham, with manifest pride and affection. Of Alma she always spoke thus; nothing of the stepmother was ever observable.

‘Mr Frothingham is not here this evening?’

‘I really don’t know why,’ replied the hostess, casting her eyes round the room. ‘I quite expected him. But he has been dreadfully busy the last few weeks. And people do worry him so. Somebody called whilst we were at dinner, and refused to believe that Mr Frothingham was not at home, and made quite a disturbance at the door – so they told me afterwards. I’m really quite nervous sometimes; crazy people are always wanting to see him – people who really ought not to be at large. No doubt they have had their troubles, poor things; and everybody thinks my husband can make them rich if only he chooses.’

A stout, important-looking man paused before Mrs Frothingham, and spoke familiarly.

‘I’m looking for B. F. Hasn’t he put in an appearance yet?’

‘I really hope he’s enjoying himself somewhere else,’ replied the hostess, rising, with a laugh.