andide'?" Uncle Chris shook his head. He was not a great reader,
except of the sporting press.

"It's a book by Voltaire. There's a character in it called Doctor
Pangloss, who thought that everything was for the best in this best of
all possible worlds."

Uncle Chris felt a touch of embarrassment. It occurred to him that he
had been betrayed by his mercurial temperament into an attitude which,
considering the circumstances, was perhaps a trifle too jubilant. He
gave his moustache a pull, and reverted to the minor key.

"Oh, you mustn't think that I don't appreciate the terrible, the criminal
thing I have done! I blame myself," said Uncle Chris cordially, nicking
another speck of dust off his sleeve. "I blame myself bitterly. Your
mother ought never to have made me your trustee, my dear. But she always
believed in me, in spite of everything, and this is how I have repaid
her." He blew his nose to cover a not unmanly emotion. "I wasn't fitted
for the position. Never become a trustee, Jill. It's the devil, is trust
money. However much you argue with yourself, you can't--dash it, you
simply can't believe that it's not your own, to do as you like with,
There it sits, smiling at you, crying 'Spend me! Spend me!' and you find
yourself dipping--dipping--till one day there's nothing left to dip
for--only a far-off rustling--the ghosts Of dead bank-notes. That's how it
was with me. The process was almost automatic. I hardly knew it was going
on. Here a little--there a little. It was like snow melting on a
mountain-top. And one morning--all gone!" Uncle Chris drove the point home
with a gesture. "I did what I could. When I found that there were only a
few hundreds left, for your sake I took a chance. All heart and no head!
There you have Christopher Selby in a nutshell! A man at the club, a fool
named--I've forgotten his damn name--recommended Amalgamated Dyestuffs as
a speculation. Monroe, that was his name, Jimmy Monroe. He talked about
the future of British Dyes now that Germany was out of the race, and ...
well, the long and short of it was that I took his advice and bought on
margin. Bought like the devil. And this morning Amalgamated Dyestuffs went
all to blazes. There you have the whole story!"

"And now," said Jill, "comes the sequel!"

"The sequel?" said Uncle Chris breezily. "Happiness, my dear,
happiness! Wedding bells and--and all that sort of thing!" He
straddled the hearth-rug manfully, and swelled his chest out.