advised him, in sober
seriousness, to live for two years at the rate of a thousand a
year. At the end of that time he would have been earning enough to
continue at pretty much the same rate of expenditure.'
'Perhaps.'
'Well, I ought rather to say that the average man of letters
would be able to do that. As for Reardon—'
He stopped. The name had escaped him unawares.
'Reardon?' said Marian, looking up. 'You are speaking of
him?'
'I have betrayed myself Miss Yule.'
'But what does it matter? You have only spoken in his
favour.'
'I feared the name might affect you disagreeably.'
Marian delayed her reply.
'It is true,' she said, 'we are not on friendly terms with my
cousin's family. I have never met Mr Reardon. But I shouldn't like
you to think that the mention of his name is disagreeable to
me.'
'It made me slightly uncomfortable yesterday—the fact that I am
well acquainted with Mrs Edmund Yule, and that Reardon is my
friend. Yet I didn't see why that should prevent my making your
father's acquaintance.'
'Surely not. I shall say nothing about it; I mean, as you
uttered the name unintentionally.'
There was a pause in the dialogue. They had been speaking almost
confidentially, and Marian seemed to become suddenly aware of an
oddness in the situation. She turned towards the uphill path, as if
thinking of resuming her walk.
'You are tired of standing still,' said Jasper. 'May I walk back
a part of the way with you?'
'Thank you; I shall be glad.'
They went on for a few minutes in silence.
'Have you published anything with your signature, Miss Yule?'
Jasper at length inquired.
'Nothing. I only help father a little.'
The silence that again followed was broken this time by
Marian.
'When you chanced to mention Mr Reardon's name,' she said, with
a diffident smile in which lay that suggestion of humour so
delightful upon a woman's face, 'you were going to say something
more about him?'
'Only that—' he broke off and laughed. 'Now, how boyish it was,
wasn't it? I remember doing just the same thing once when I came
home from school and had an exciting story to tell, with
preservation of anonymities. Of course I blurted out a name in the
first minute or two, to my father's great amusement. He told me
that I hadn't the diplomatic character. I have been trying to
acquire it ever since.
'But why?'
'It's one of the essentials of success in any kind of public
life. And I mean to succeed, you know. I feel that I am one of the
men who do succeed. But I beg your pardon; you asked me a question.
Really, I was only going to say of Reardon what I had said before:
that he hasn't the tact requisite for acquiring popularity.'
'Then I may hope that it isn't his marriage with my cousin which
has proved a fatal misfortune?'
'In no case,' replied Milvain, averting his look, 'would he have
used his advantages.'
'And now? Do you think he has but poor prospects?'
'I wish I could see any chance of his being estimated at his
right value. It's very hard to say what is before him.'
'I knew my cousin Amy when we were children,' said Marian,
presently. 'She gave promise of beauty.'
'Yes, she is beautiful.'
'And—the kind of woman to be of help to such a husband?'
'I hardly know how to answer, Miss Yule,' said Jasper, looking
frankly at her. 'Perhaps I had better say that it's unfortunate
they are poor.'
Marian cast down her eyes.
'To whom isn't it a misfortune?' pursued her companion. 'Poverty
is the root of all social ills; its existence accounts even for the
ills that arise from wealth. The poor man is a man labouring in
fetters. I declare there is no word in our language which sounds so
hideous to me as "Poverty."'
Shortly after this they came to the bridge over the railway
line. Jasper looked at his watch.
'Will you indulge me in a piece of childishness?' he said. 'In
less than five minutes a London express goes by; I have often
watched it here, and it amuses me. Would it weary you to wait?'
'I should like to,' she replied