ve never
told you before, Sir Arthur, but I may as well tell you now that, if
Miss Vane had not disappeared as mysteriously as she did, Vane was to
have introduced me to her, and I was going to marry her if she would
have me."

Sir Arthur looked at him in silence for a few moments, and then he took
his hand and said:

"I know that is true, Ernshaw, because you have said it; though I would
not have believed it from anyone else except Vane. I would willingly
give everything that I possess and go back to work to make such a thing
possible, but I'm afraid it isn't, and now, of course, it is more
impossible than ever. Frankly, I don't believe she'd have you. It sounds
a very curious thing to say, but from what I have seen of her, granted
even that she fell in love with you, the more she loved you the more
absolutely she would refuse to marry you. You know we offered her
everything we could. Vane and I both agreed to acknowledge her and have
her to live with us, but it was no use. She refused in such a way that
she made me long all the more to take her for my own daughter before the
world; but there was no mistaking the refusal, and the day after our
last interview she clinched it by vanishing, I suppose with this young
millionaire who is with her now. It's very terrible, of course, but
there it is. It's done, and I'm afraid there's no mending it. Perhaps,
after all, it is better for you that it should be so."

"Yes, Ernshaw," said Vane. "It's not a nice thing to say under the
circumstances, but I think the governor's right."

"Possibly, but I don't agree with you," he replied. "You know I am what
a good many people would call an enthusiast on the subject of this
so-called social evil, for which, as I believe, Society itself is almost
entirely to blame, and I am quite prepared to put my views into
practice."

"Then," said Sir Arthur, smiling gravely, "I think when we get back to
Town I'd better introduce you to Miss Murray, who was living with Carol
in Melville Gardens, where I first saw her. She was in the Cathedral on
Sunday. Her parents live in Worcester, and they believe, poor people,
that she has a little millinery business in London. She says she's
going on the Continent, I suppose with this friend of hers. But she has
given me an address in London where she can be found.

"Now there, Ernshaw," he went on, "there I believe you would find a far
better subject for your social experiment, if you are determined to ma