chiefly from an unquestioned readiness in accepting
anything that came loosely under the designation
of a Life (even though the value lay rather in
the direction of a Death), and from a profession,
not quite so unquestioned, of paying all claims
with a readiness that was almost " soft."

In these days a brougham drove up to the
door of the Irrefragable—a brougham, no doubt,
containing a Life. The Life was a Lady Life. It
came in, and the mahogany doors swung to
behind it—as it were the lid of a box, shutting
down firmly on the Life. The greatness of the
business seemed to be revealed in its mahogany,
and the Lady Life was reflected in panelling and
partitions forward, and from a monster solid
counter (that would have dined giants, and borne
the weight of their elbows after dinner) upwards.

The Lady Life was a flashing Life, bright,
dazzling, and handsomely dressed. The faces of
many clerks converged to her with admiration.
Mr. Speedy, manager and actuary, imprisoned
all day in a little compartment that looked like
a mahogany match-box, looked out over the edge
to the brilliant Lady Life. Mr. Speedy, who did
showy calculations, and furnished the instructive
examples out of " the Books of the Company,"
beginning, " A has insured in the year 1837 for one
hundred pounds," reconnoitred the lady narrowly,
for about every life that entered he did a little
exercise to keep his mental hand in. " I know,"
said Mr. Speedy to himself; " handsome young
wife, old husband, with Life utterly uninsurable.
That won't do here, madam." He listened, as
Pauline's soft clear voice travelled to him readily.

She wished to insure her own Life, only for a
trifle, say two hundred pounds—say in favour of
her brother. Could they oblige her with forms?
Mr. Speedy, over the edge of his match-box,
had seen the dark brougham—the spectre of the
uninsurable octogenarian husband had happily
faded out. Here was a case for extended connexion.
He came down softly out of his box
with forms, and took the case out of the hands of
the inferiors.

"You will find everything here," he said,
collecting quite a little library of fat almanacks,
coloured pictures of the " branches" at Montreal,
Dublin, &c. "We offer very advantageous
terms. We ask no disagreeable questions, and
give as little trouble as we can. I am sure you
would not repent coming to us. In fact, if you
were satisfied, and would kindly mention us to
any of your friends—-"

"I certainly shall," said Pauline. " In fact, I
have come to you chiefly because a gentleman
that I know has been with you—Major Carter."

Mr. Speedy's brow contracted. " Ah! A claim
that is! The most unfortunate transaction we
have had yet. Seven thousand pounds, and only
two years' premium paid! We were advised to
resist; but, as we are a young institution, we
thought it better to avoid the—scandal," said
Mr. Speedy, smiling. " It was the fault of our
medical adviser, who accepted the lady's Life too
hastily."

"Mrs. Carter?" said Pauline.

"Yes," said Mr. Speedy. "But we are prepared
cheerfully to make any sacrifice—any sacrifice
to keep up the irrefragable character of our
corporation. As we have dealt with Major
Carter openly, fairly, and honourably, so, if you
honour us, madam—-"

"You will pay my heirs," said Pauline, smiling,
"as readily as you did Major Carter?"

"The Board has not paid yet," said Mr.
Speedy. " By the terms of our charter, we can
keep the policy money nine months. But what
is that? Fairness and honesty before everything."

Pauline took away her pictures and thick
almanacks into her brougham.

Mr. Speedy retired into his match-box, but
looked out long over its edge after the bright
and fashionable lady who had visited him. He
told Mrs. Speedy at dinner of the interview he
had had with a very " high" person indeed at the
office, and he hinted that by his tact and management
he had secured that "interest" for the
office. He did not know, however, that the
"high" lady had thrown herself back in her
brougham with a weary air, and had flung down
his papers with a sort of disgust. "How I
loathe how I detest myself," she said, "for
these meannesses. I am ashamed to holdup my
head. But what can I do? Women have no
other strength. Trickery and cunning and meanness
this must serve us in the room of brute
force. Is my life to become an organised hypocrisy?
0, Violet!"

She was coming to the Park. Her face
became bright again. She drew herself forward,
and looked out proudly from the window. A
few people were waiting half way at the crossing
to let a string of carriages go by. To her
astonishment, she saw young Mrs. Fermor and
her maid among these. In an instant she had
the glass down, and was calling to her.

The young wife, unhappy and tossed about by
her new bitter troubles, had determined to forswear
her society. She shrank even from the
name. But now, with Pauline present, it seemed
altogether different. She felt herself a mere
child before that brilliant woman of the world.
There was an influence in her—an absorbing
glance—which she could not resist. Miss
Manuel bade her send home her maid, and get in.
She must come and drive with her, and see the
company in the Park. Mrs. Fermor made a
faint protest, and put forward her dress, but she
was powerless in those hands. There was a
seduction about Pauline as she made a place for
her beside herself, which, for the moment, she
did not wish to resist.

She had never yet seen this shape of Vanity
Fair—the procession of people of quality moving
along like a bright Coventry ribbon. Her lord,
Fermor, had always dismissed it as childish, and
as a childish taste. Had not he seen it over and
over again, until he was literally sick of the
business? Now it quite dazzled her—the noble