le to a worn-out City man, and as
a pure matter of bargaining, the blouse was a cheap price to pay for the
refreshment of that cool, restful hour, and the pretty chatter which
smoothed the tired lines out of his face, and made him laugh and feel
young again.

Another night Mr Vane would be decoyed to a rendezvous at Earl's Court,
when Margot would wear the blouse, and insist upon turning round the
pearl band on her third finger, so as to imitate a wedding-ring, looking
at him in languishing fashion across the table the while, to the delight
of fellow-diners and his own mingled horror and amusement. Then they
would wander about beneath the glimmer of the fairy-lights, listening to
the band, as veritable a pair of lovers as any among the throng.

As summer approached, Mr Vane's thoughts turned to these happy
occasions, and it strengthened his indignation against his son to
realise that this year a cloud had arisen between himself and his
dearest daughter. Margot had openly ranked herself against him, which
was a bitter pill to swallow, and, so far from showing an inclination to
repent as the prescribed time drew to a close, the conspirators appeared
only to be the more determined. Long envelopes were continually being
dispatched to the post, to appear with astonishing dispatch on the
family breakfast-table. The pale, wrought look on Ronald's face as he
caught sight of them against the white cloth! No parent's heart could
fail to be wrung for the lad's misery; but the futility of it added to
the inward exasperation. Thousands of men walking the streets of London
vainly seeking for work, while this misguided youth scorned a safe and
secure position!

The pent-up irritation exploded one Sunday evening, when the presence of
Edith and her husband recalled the consciousness of yet another
disappointment. Mr Vane had made his own way, and, after the manner of
successful men, had little sympathy with failure. The presence of the
two pale, dejected-looking young men filled him with impatient wrath.
At the supper-table he was morose and irritable, until a chance remark
set the fuse ablaze.

"Yes, yes! You all imagine yourselves so clever nowadays that you can
afford to despise the experience of men who knew the world before you
were born! I can see you look at each other as I speak! I'm not blind!
I'm an out-of-date old fogey who doesn't know what he is talking about,
and hasn't even the culture to appreciate his own