what Beryl sees
in him?'

His daughter's prospects were not indeed very clear to a mind that
liked everything cut and dried. Aubrey Mannering was the Squire's
eldest son; but the Squire was not rich, and had been for years past
wasting his money on Greek antiquities, which seemed to his
neighbours, including Sir Henry Chicksands, a very dubious
investment. If Aubrey should want to sell, who was going to buy such
things at high prices after the war? No doubt prices at
Christie's--for good stuff--had been keeping up very well. That was
because of war profits. People were throwing money about now. But
when the war industries came to an end? and the national bills had
to be paid?

'The only thing that can't go down is land,' thought Sir Henry, with
the cheerful consciousness of a man who had steadily year by year
increased what had originally been a very modest property to
something like a large estate.

Mannering had plenty of that commodity. But how far had he dipped
the estate? It must be heavily mortgaged. By decent management
anybody, no doubt, might still bring it round. 'But Aubrey's not the
man. And since he joined up at the beginning of the war the Squire
won't let him have a voice in anything. And now Desmond--by George,
the twins are nineteen this month!--Desmond'll be off directly. And
then his father will be madder than ever.'

By this time the ugly house was near at hand, and the thick woods
which surrounded it had closed about the horse and rider.

'Splendid timber,' thought Sir Henry, as he rode through it,
measuring it with a commercial eye, 'but all past its prime, and
abominably neglected.... Hullo! that looks like Pamela, and the new
woman--the secretary!'

For two ladies were coming down the drive towards him, with a big
white and tan collie jumping round them. One of them, very tall and
erect, was dressed in a dark coat and skirt, reasonably short, a
small black toque, and brown boots and leggings. The close-fitting
coat showed a shapely but quite substantial figure. She carried a
stick, and walked with a peculiarly rapid and certain step. The
young girl beside her seemed by comparison a child. She wore a white
dress, in keeping with the warm September day, and with it a dark
blue sports coat, and a shady hat. Her dress only just passed her
knees, and beneath it the slender legs and high heels drew Sir
Henry's disapproving eye. He hated extravagance in anything. Beryl
managed to look fashiona