“You, as the woman, ought to give way,” said Lady Laura.

“But we do not always do just what we ought.”

“I know how difficult it is for me to advise, seeing to what a pass I have brought myself.”

“Do not say that, dear;—­or rather do say it, for we have, both of us, brought ourselves to what you call a pass,—­to such a pass that we are like to be able to live together and discuss it for the rest of our lives.  The difference is, I take it, that you have not to accuse yourself, and that I have.”

“I cannot say that I have not to accuse myself,” said Lady Laura.  “I do not know that I have done much wrong to Mr. Kennedy since I married him; but in marrying him I did him a grievous wrong.”

“And he has avenged himself.”

“We will not talk of vengeance.  I believe he is wretched, and I know that I am;—­and that has come of the wrong that I have done.”

“I will make no man wretched,” said Violet.

“Do you mean that your mind is made up against Oswald?”

“I mean that, and I mean much more.  I say that I will make no man wretched.  Your brother is not the only man who is so weak as to be willing to run the hazard.”

“There is Lord Fawn.”

“Yes, there is Lord Fawn, certainly.  Perhaps I should not do him much harm; but then I should do him no good.”

“And poor Phineas Finn.”

“Yes;—­there is Mr. Finn.  I will tell you something, Laura.  The only man I ever saw in the world whom I have thought for a moment that it was possible that I should like,—­like enough to love as my husband,—­except your brother, was Mr. Finn.”

“And now?”

“Oh;—­now; of course that is over,” said Violet.

“It is over?”

“Quite over.  Is he not going to marry Madame Goesler?  I suppose all that is fixed by this time.  I hope she will be good to him, and gracious, and let him have his own way, and give him his tea comfortably when he comes up tired from the House; for I confess that my heart is a little tender towards Phineas still.  I should not like to think that he had fallen into the hands of a female Philistine.”

“I do not think he will marry Madame Goesler.”

“Why not?”

“I can hardly tell you;—­but I do not think he will.  And you loved him once,—­eh, Violet?”

“Not quite that, my dear.  It has been difficult with me to love.  The difficulty with most girls, I fancy, is not to love.  Mr. Finn, when I came to measure him in my mind, was not small, but he was never quite tall enough.  One feels oneself to be a sort of recruiting sergeant, going about with a standard of inches.  Mr. Finn was just half an inch too short.  He lacks something in individuality.  He is a little too much a friend to everybody.”

“Shall I tell you a secret, Violet?”

“If you please, dear; though I fancy it is one I know already.”

“He is the only man whom I ever loved,” said Lady Laura.