88 IN A WINTER CITY
snule. " At least they say so. But every hu¬
man being loves his vanity first. ' Only wounded
my vanity ?' poor Lord Strangford used to say.
' Pray what dearer and more integral part of my¬
self coiUd you wound ? ' He was very right. If
we are not on good terms with ourselves we can
never prevaU with others."
"Yet a vain man seldom succeeds with
women ? "
" A man who lets them see that he is vain
does not: that is another matter. Vanity—ah !
there is MUadi, she has plenty of vanity; yet it
is of a grandiose kind, and it would only take a
little more time and the ffrst grey hafr to tum
it into dissatisfaction. All kinds of discontent are
oiUy superb vanities. Byron's, Musset's, BoUng-
A horse nearly knocked the Due down in the
midst of his philosophies as he picked his way
deUcately amongst the standing and moving car¬
riages to the place where the white great-coats
with the black velvet coUars of the Lady HUda's
servants were visible.
The Lady Hilda's victoria stood in that open