'Wedlock is a hard pinching boot But fornication is an easy shoe.'

"Yes, some years ago that was printed quite casually in one of the papers, and it was not meant to -shock. It was the way we thought in those days. Most people think the same now; they always think the same; but we're entering a new age, Polly. We're becoming a people who wrap ourselves up in decorum and think that if we lay it on thick, what's underneath doesn't exist. But it's there just the same. It's there."

"So he's one of the old lot, is he?" said Polly. "He finds his wife a hard-pinching boot and he thinks our Melly would be an easy shoe. I don't doubt it. I don't doubt it at all. But our little girl took fright, and that's going to send her to Mr. Beddoes. I hope it's right. I only hope it's right."

"He's bewitched you as he has Melisande. That's what men were like in the old days."

"Well, we'll see. But I'd like our little French Melly to be a happy little girl, that I would."

"She will. She'll marry Beddoes and live happy ever after. And we shall have done our duty."

"And earned our money."

"Don't be vulgar, Polly. In time she'll understand that sober marriage and a bank balance are worth all the blue-eyed wooers in the world ... in the long run, of course."

But Polly sighed; and Fenella sighed; they were romantics at heart.

So the meetings between the lawyer and Melisande were encouraged and, a month or so after Lucie's wedding, Andrew Beddoes asked Melisande to marry him.

"I know it seems sudden to you, Miss St. Martin," he said, "but I think it is partly due to seeing the happiness of my friend, Francis Grey. I won't deny that I have given this matter a great deal of thought. I have even discussed it with Grey. He is fond of you, and his wife loves you dearly. We could be near neighbours of theirs and we—he and I—might even consider joining together in a business relationship."

"I ... I see," said Melisande.

She looked at his clear, honest-looking eyes, at his serious face. Fermor had made her expect more passion in a proposal; but this was, of course, a different proposition from that which Fermor had made. She thought of Leon, whose proposal had been of yet another nature. Was she as fond of this lawyer as she had been of L£on ? It was hard to say. Then she had been innocent and inexperienced. She knew now that Leon had aroused her pity and that she had turned to him in order to escape from Fermor. Once again she was seeking escape from Fermor. She did not pity this self-assured young man, but she did admire him. He was always courteous; he did not anger her; he was so energetic in his desire to advance in his profession. How many times had she compared him with Fermor—and always to Fermor's disadvantage! Andrew would be a faithful husband, she was sure; Fermor never. Andrew was determined to make his way in the world. What ambitions had Fermor? Few it seemed, but to seduce her. There had been talk of his going into Parliament. She wondered whether he was too lazy. He already had a large income and one day would inherit more. Fermor seemed to have no ambition but to look about the world, decide on what he wanted, and proceed to take it.

In every way Andrew was admirable; in every way Fermor was disreputable. A wise girl would have had no difficulty in deciding; unfortunately Melisande was not wise.

But she was learning more and more about this establishment in which she found herself. She listened to the chatter of the girls. Lucie had warned her that it was not wise to stay too long with Fenella. If one did sooner or later one might become as Daisy, Kate and Mary Jane. They were such jolly girls—so full of fun and laughter—but what did the future hold for them ? Jane and Hilda, two seamstresses, had been desirable once; they liked to talk to the three jolly girls while they remembered wistfully that that was how they were once. Now they sat sewing for a living, and the privilege of doing so they owed to the benevolence of Fenella Cardingly.

She must get away from this house. She was sure that Sir Charles was ignorant of its nature. She did not believe he would have sent her there had he known. Lucie was right. A girl must not stay too long at Fenella's. She had only yesterday wandered into the room which was set apart from the rest of the house, and in which was the Bed of Fertility. She had smelt the heavy perfumed air, had seen with shocked dismay the statues and pictures. It was an embarrassing experience.

Now this young man was offering her escape—not only from Fermor and the tragedy which any weakness on her part would surely bring to Caroline, but from Fenella and her mysterious establishment.

"Well," said Andrew, "what is your answer, Mademoiselle St. Martin?"

"I ... I don't know. I want time to think of it."

"Of course, of course. I have been rash. I have spoken too soon."

She smiled at him. He would never be rash; he would never speak too soon. From his point of view at least, she knew there would be no doubt. She was not surprised. Young as she was she had been much admired.

"How long would you like to consider this ?" he asked eagerly.

"Oh ... a few days... . Perhaps a week."

"Then you will give me your answer not later than a week from to-day?"

"Yes, but there are things you should know about me."

"Nothing could change my feelings about you."

"You are very good, Mr. Beddoes," she said. "I shall always remember how good."

He kissed her hand and left her; and she decided then that she would be very foolish if she did not accept his offer of marriage.

Fenella sent for her. Fenella was well satisfied. She lay on her chaise longue and held out her hand. Taking Melisande's she patted it. "Dear child, Mr. Beddoes has spoken to me. You know of what."

"I can guess."

"He is a good man, my dear."

"I know he is."

"And you will agree to marry him?"

"I have not yet made up my mind. He has given me a week to decide."

"I hope," said Fenella, picking up the ivory fan which was within her reach, "that you will decide to be wise."

"Sometimes that which appears to be wise turns out unwise."

"Not with a man like Andrew Beddoes, my dear. He knows where he's going. He will be a successful lawyer in a few years' time. Doubtless he will make a fine name for himself. He might get a knighthood. That wouldn't surprise me at all."

"Is it easier to live with people who have titles than those without?"

"Ha! It is an easier matter to live with a successful man than a failure. Don't be deceived by ideas about bread and cheese and kisses. They don't work after the first few weeks, and we want to see you settled for life. I won't deny I hoped you might marry into the peerage. A girl with looks like yours might have done so twenty years ago. But now, my dear, society is changing. The men who could offer you a grander marriage than this one wouldn't offer you marriage at all."

"Is it not a question of affection ?"

"That comes into it. But you are fond of him?"

"I admire him."

"Admiration is as good a basis as love. We seek to turn those we love into the perfect beings of our imagination. Those whom we admire we emulate. Yes, mutual admiration is a very good basis for marriage."

"Madam, I am rather bewildered. Why did my father send me to you? Why did he say I was to be apprenticed to a dressmaker when ..."

"He could not have explained me nor my establishment to you, dear. Nobody could. I hope you have been happy here. Perhaps you have seen certain things which it was not good for you to see. Here each lives her own life. What is good for one may be bad for another. The chief quality we have is tolerance. You can't go far wrong in being tolerant, dear. Then you don't condemn; you don't blame. You say simply: 'That way is not the way I wish to go.' No more than that. Nobody is unhappy here. That is how I weigh the good and the bad. Happiness is good; sorrow is bad. If I give happiness, that is good enough for me."

"I see. And you would be happy if I accepted Mr. Beddoes ?"

"It is the best thing that could happen to you. I should be pleased; your father would be pleased."

"My father!"

"He wishes to see you happily settled, of course."

"Does he ... care then?"

"Care! Of course he cares! He writes regularly asking me of your progress."

"I did not know."

"He cannot write to you. It is not in his nature to do so. He is a man of pride, of fixed conventions. You were the result of an indiscretion which he feels would disgrace him if it were known. You may call him a coward. But be tolerant, Melisande. Always try to look through the eyes of others; that breeds the best things the world has to offer: kindness, tolerance, understanding and love."

Melisande knelt down and kissed Fenella's hand.

"I think," she said "that I will marry Mr. Beddoes."

After that night and the day which followed it, Melisande often thought that if only one had time to prepare for shocks, so much that was tragic might be averted.

The French maid was dressing her, Clotilde and Genevra.

Genevra was chatting with abandon in front of the maid, since the latter certainly could not understand Genevra's English.

Genevra was laced and standing in her petticoats waiting for her dress of silk and lace to be slipped over her head. Clotilde lay back languorously in her chair. Melisande was standing before the mirror while Elise laced her corset. She was laughing as she gripped the back of a chair while Elise pulled tighter and tighter.