"Good afternoon, Mr. Paxton," he greeted amiably with a nod of the head, grateful the old man was not the sort to stop for idle small-talk—and grateful his hearing was abysmal.

The man more than safely behind them, Stan knew he had to answer Miss Alardice's question. He stopped and turned to face a display, but did not pay any attention to its contents.

"I cannot rightly say what I would do," the physician admitted quietly, "for it is not a situation that would ever find me." Not because he was better than her, but by virtue of his sex: a man did not have to live with the consequences of such actions, though a gentleman did.

"My sisters, though—I would urge them as I am urging you. There can be no guarantee of peace for you, so you must think instead of what you wish to give to your b—to others."

A household of love was, of course, the pinnacle as far as good lives went, but it was never a guarantee in polite society. A benign, tedious life, though, was surely better than one of notoriety!