egret in realising that it was the last evening he
should spend at the Court. He was still not only determined but eager
to return to his work at the beginning of the week, and had counted the
hours until his release should arrive; but, as the days passed by, he
had become increasingly alive, not only to the beauty of his
surroundings but to the unusual charm of feminine society. After a
lonely life in London lodgings, it was an agreeable experience to come
downstairs to a perfectly appointed meal, set against a background of
tapestry and oak, to be greeted by bright girlish faces, and kept amused
and interested from morning till night.

Mollie was a fascinating little creature--witty, audacious, and sweet--
hearted, though, as yet, too much of a school-girl to be taken
seriously. As for Ruth, she was a beauty, and might become dangerous to
a man's peace of mind on a longer acquaintance. That was an additional
reason why Jack was set on leaving the Court, for, as she was obviously
first favourite, it would be a distinct stroke of diplomacy for a man to
link his chances with hers. Jack's nostrils inflated in characteristic
manner as he told himself, that this would not be his fashion of going
a-wooing, but he was less scrupulous in prophesying for his neighbour.
"Druce will make love to her! she'll marry Druce!" he told himself
confidently; and his thoughts flew ahead to the time when the young
couple would reign over the Court, and dispense the favours which were
now in Bernard Farrell's hands.

Well, it was a goodly heritage! Even in seven short days several scenes
had printed themselves upon his memory. The drive across the park, with
the great north front of the house lying grey and chill in the distance;
the south terrace flooded with sunshine; the gardens sloping to the
level of the lake; and beyond them the open stretch of country. And in
all probability Druce was to be the master of it all. He seemed a good
enough fellow, but was he worthy of the position, and of the wife who
would go with it? Would he make her happy?--the sweet, beautiful thing!
Happiness did not come easily to her as it did to her sister. If her
husband neglected her, or fell short of her ideal, the wistful
expression, which was one of her charms, would soon develop into a
settled melancholy. Jack conjured up a vision of Ruth's face--emaciated
and woebegone--and felt a pang of regret, allied with something
curiously like remorse.