he idea
sprang from you--I mean from my pretty sister Adela, who is President of
the Council of Three. I hold that young woman responsible for all that
they do. Am I wrong? Oh, very well. You suggested Besworth, at all
events. And--if we quarrel, I shall cut off one of your curls."

"We never will quarrel, my darling," quoth Adela softly. "Unless--" she
added.

Wilfrid kissed her forehead.

"Unless what?"

"Well, then, you must tell me who it is that talks of me in that
objectionable manner; I do not like it."

"Shall I convey that intimation?"

"I choose to ask, simply that I may defend myself."

"I choose to keep him buried, then, simply to save his life."

Adela made a mouth, and Wilfrid went on: "By the way, I want you to know
Lady Charlotte; you will take to one another. She likes you,
already--says you want dash; but on that point there may be two
opinions."

"If dash," said Adela, quite beguiled, "--that is, dash!--what does it
mean? But, if Lady Charlotte means by dash--am I really wanting in it? I
should define it, the quality of being openly natural without vulgarity;
and surely...!"

"Then you two differ a little, and must meet and settle your dispute. You
don't differ about Besworth: or, didn't. I never saw a woman so much in
love with a place as she is."

"A place?" emphasized Adela.

"Don't be too arch. I comprehend. She won't take me minus Besworth, you
may be sure."

"Did you, Wilfrid!--but you did not--offer yourself as owner of
Besworth?"

Wilfrid kept his eyes slanting on the floor.

"Now I see why you should still wish it," continued Adela. "Perhaps you
don't know the reason which makes it impossible, or I would say--Bacchus!
it must be compassed. You remember your old schoolboy oath which you
taught me? We used to swear always, by Bacchus!"

Adela laughed and blushed, like one who petitions pardon for this her
utmost sin, that is not regretted as it should be.

"Mrs. Chump again, isn't it?" said Wilfrid. "Pole would be a preferable
name. If she has the ambition, it elevates her. And it would be rather
amusing to see the dear old boy in love."

Adela gave her under-lip a distressful bite.

"Why do you, Wilfrid--why treat such matters with levity?"

"Levity? I am the last to treat ninety thousand pounds with levity."

"Has she so much?" Adela glanced at him.

"She will be snapped up by some poor nobleman. If I take her down to the
yacht, one of Lady Charlotte's brothers o