perfectly certain, if she were willing, your father wouldn't marry her. She's too boisterous."

"Poor woman!" Letitia sighed. "She's immensely rich, but, you see, she has no past--I mean no pedigree. I am afraid it's out of the question."

"I wish you would chuck rotting and marry me, Letitia," he begged. "There's a little house in Pont Street--suit us down to the ground."

Letitia found herself gazing over the tops of the more distant trees. "We are going down to Mandeleys in a few days," she said presently. "I'll take myself seriously to task there. I suppose I must really want to be married only I don't know it. Don't be surprised if you get a telegram from me any day."

"I'd come down there myself, if I had an invitation," he suggested.

She shook her head. "Charlie," she declared, "it couldn't be done. So far as I can see at present, unless some of the tenantry offer their services for nothing--and our tenantry aren't like that--we shall have to keep house with about half a dozen servants, which means of course, only opening a few rooms. As a matter of fact, we shan't be able to go at all, unless Mr. Thain pays his rent for Broomleys in advance."

They turned out of the Park and not a word passed between them again until Letitia descended from her horse in Grosvenor Square. "You were a dear to think of this, Charles," she said, standing on the steps and smiling at him. "I haven't enjoyed anything so much for a long time."

"You wouldn't care about a theatre this evening?" he proposed.

"Come in at tea time and see how I am feeling," she suggested. "I have dad rather on my hands. He has been wandering about like a lost sheep, the last few afternoons. I can't think what is wrong."

She strolled across the hall and looked in at the study. The Marquis was seated in an easy-chair, reading a volume of Memoirs. She crossed the room towards him. "Father," she exclaimed, "you ought to have been out a beautiful morning like this."

The Marquis laid down his book. He was certainly looking a little tired. Letitia came up to his side and patted his hand. "How's the gout?" she asked.

"Better," he replied, examining the offending finger. "You're just lazy, I believe," Letitia observed reprovingly. "The sooner we get down to Mandeleys the better."

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