"we move in the same society—he moves in the very best." She used to hear Eunice talk about her trustee, but she supposed a trustee must be some horrid old man with a lot of papers in his hand, sitting all day in an office. She never supposed he was a prince in disguise. "We 've got a trustee somewhere, only I never see him; my husband does all the business. No wonder he keeps him out of the way if he resembles Mr. Caliph." And then suddenly she said to Eunice, "My dear, why don't you marry him? I should think you would want to." Mrs. Ermine does n't look through mill-stones; she contents herself with giving them a poke with her parasol. Eunice colored, and said she had n't been asked; she was evidently not pleased with Mrs. Ermine's joke, which was of course as flat as you like. Then she added in a moment—"I should be very sorry to marry Mr. Caliph, even if he were to ask me. I like him, but I don't like him enough for that."
"I should think he would be quite in your style,—he 's so literary. They say he writes," Mrs. Ermine went on.
"Well, I don't write," Eunice answered, laughing.
"You could if you would try. I 'm sure you could make a lovely book." Mrs. Ermine's amiability is immense.
"It's safe for you to say that—you never read."
"I have no time," said Mrs. Ermine, "but I like
