wine. (You'll see the spot close by where
you're sitting, Ellen. Jogged my wrist, he did!) I'd like to know why
people in the spear of life which these people are in can't behave
themselves rational, same as we do. When we were walking out and I
took you to have tea with my mother, it was one of the pleasantest
meals I ever ate. Talk about 'armony! It was a love-feast!"

"Your ma and I took to each other right from the start, Horace," said
Mrs. Barker softly. "That's the difference."

"Well, any woman with any sense would take to Miss Mariner. If I told
you how near I came to spilling the sauce-boat accidentally over that
old fossil's head, you'd be surprised, Ellen. She just sat there
brooding like an old eagle. If you ask my opinion, Miss Mariner's a
long sight too good for her precious son!"

"Oh, but Horace! Sir Derek's a baronet!"

"What of it? Kind 'earts are more than coronets and simple faith than
Norman blood, aren't they?"

"You're talking Socialism, Horace."

"No, I'm not. I'm talking sense. I don't know who Miss Mariner's
parents may have been--I never enquired--but anyone can see she's a
lady born and bred. But do you suppose the path of true love is going
to run smooth, for all that? Not it! She's got a 'ard time ahead of
her, that poor girl!"

"Horace!" Mrs. Barker's gentle heart was wrung. The situation hinted
at by her husband was no new one--indeed, it formed the basis of at
least fifty per cent of the stories in the True Heart Novelette
Series, of which she was a determined reader--but it had never failed
to touch her. "Do you think her ladyship means to come between them
and wreck their romance?"

"I think she means to have a jolly good try."

"But Sir Derek has his own money, hasn't he? I mean it's not like when
Sir Courtenay Travers fell in love with the milkmaid and was dependent
on his mother, the Countess, for everything. Sir Derek can afford to
do what he pleases, can't he?"

Barker shook his head tolerantly. The excellence of the cigar and the
soothing qualities of the whisky-and-soda had worked upon him, and he
was feeling less ruffled.

"You don't understand these things," he said. "Women like her ladyship
can talk a man into anything and out of anything. I wouldn't care,
only you can see the poor girl is mad over the feller. What she finds
attractive in him, I can't say, but that's her own affair."

"He's very handsome, Horace, with those flashing eyes and that stern
mouth,