nd distinction; every movement of the
slim body and white tapering fingers was a poem in itself, and the coils
of chestnut hair shone like burnished gold. Even in the poorest of
surroundings Margot would look an aristocrat, and reflect credit on her
husband's good taste.

While he was drinking his tea and listening to the pretty flow of
conversation about everything in general and nothing in particular,
which seems to come so naturally to women of the world, Victor was busy
painting a mental picture of a wonderful, rose-coloured future where he
would reign as master of Raby Court, with Margot acting chatelaine by
his side. The exclusive county families might have hesitated to welcome
a stranger, who was moreover a "City man," but, with Margot Blount as
his wife, he would have the entree into any society.

Victor congratulated himself on his usual good luck, inasmuch as this
desirable partner was the girl of all others whom he would have selected
for her own sake. A year ago he had looked upon her as a star entirely
out of his own sphere, for he had the poorest of prospects for the
future, but now, as by the stroke of a magician's wand, a fine position
was almost assured, and he could approach Margot if not as an equal,
still as a match whom nobody need disdain. Almost, but not quite!
There lay the rub.

The old squire still lingered on, dying by inches as it were, and
preserving to the last his grim enigmatical silence. Victor had not
heard one word from his lips to substantiate his hopes; but actions--
which, as the proverb says, speak louder than words--all seemed to range
themselves in his favour. His three rivals had retired in disfavour,
and, receiving no replies to their first letters, had gradually ceased
writing, so that there was at present no correspondence between them and
the squire, while he himself was a constant visitor, and was even
allowed carte blanche in inviting and entertaining his friends. The
very servants about the place spoke of him as "the young master," and
the local tradesfolk lost no opportunity of begging his patronage in the
future. Surely, surely he might be done with doubts, and allow himself
the joy of speaking out all that was in his heart!

"A penny for your thoughts, Mr Druce," cried Margot gaily. "You have
not been listening to me for the last ten minutes. It must have been a
very pleasant day-dream to engross you so completely."

"It was," said Victor simply. For on