el with his only brother and
presumptive heir because he chose to marry a woman who was not to his
taste. So he shrugged his shoulders--having finished his shaving and his
reflections together--and determined to put the best possible face on
his disappointment.

"Well, George," he said to his brother at breakfast, "so you are going
to marry Lady Croston?"

Bottles looked up surprised. "Yes, Eustace," he answered, "if she will
marry me."

Sir Eustace glanced at him. "I thought the affair was settled," he said.

Bottles rubbed his big nose reflectively as he answered, "Well, no.
I don't think that marriage was mentioned. But I suppose she means to
marry me. In short, I don't see how she could mean anything else."

Sir Eustace breathed more freely, guessing what had taken place. So
there was as yet no actual engagement.

"When are you going to see her again?"

"To-morrow. She is engaged all to-day."

His brother took out a pocket-book and consulted it. "Then I am more
fortunate than you are," he said; "I have an appointment with Lady
Croston this evening after dinner. Don't look jealous, old fellow, it is
only about some executor's business. I think I told you that I am one
of her husband's executors, blessings on his memory. She is a peculiar
woman, your _inamorata_, and swears that she won't trust her lawyers, so
I have to do all the dirty work myself, worse luck. You had better come
too."

"Shan't I be in the way?" asked Bottles doubtfully, struggling feebly
against the bribe.

"It is evident, my dear fellow, that you cannot be _de trop_. I shall
present my papers for signature and vanish. You ought to be infinitely
obliged to me for giving you such a chance. We will consider that
settled. We will dine together, and go round to Grosvenor Street
afterwards."

Bottles agreed. Could he have seen the little scheme that was dawning in
his brother's brain, perhaps he would not have assented so readily.

When her old lover went away reluctantly to dress for dinner on the
previous day, Madeline Croston sat down to have a good think, and the
result was not entirely satisfactory. It had been very pleasant to
see him, and his passionate declaration of enduring love thrilled her
through and through, and even woke an echo in her own breast. It made
her proud to think that this man, who, notwithstanding his ugliness and
awkwardness, was yet, her instinct told her, worth half a dozen smart
London fashionables, still lo