"

"Of course, of course," said the Colonel, who did not wish to pursue
this branch of the subject, but his son went on:

"You know also that it was at your express wish that I came to live here
at Monksland, as for the purposes of my work it would have suited me
much better to take rooms in London or some other scientific centre."

"Really, my dear boy, you should control yourself," broke in his father.
"That is always the way with recluses; they cannot bear the slightest
criticism. Of course, as you were going to devote yourself to this line
of research it was right and proper that we should live together. Surely
you would not wish at my age that I should be deprived of the comfort of
the society of an only child, especially now that your mother has left
us?"

"Certainly not, father," answered Morris, softening, as was his fashion
at the thought of his dead mother.

Then came a pause, and he hoped that the conversation was at end; a vain
hope, as it proved.

"My real object in troubling you, Morris," continued his father,
presently, "was very different to the unnecessary discussions into which
we have drifted."

His son looked up, but said nothing. Again he knew what was coming, and
it was worse than anything that had gone before.

"This place seems very solitary with the two of us living in its
great rooms. I, who am getting an old fellow, and you a student and a
recluse--no, don't deny it, for nowadays I can barely persuade you to
attend even the Bench or a lawn-tennis party. Well, fortunately, we
have power to add to our numbers; or at least you have. I wish you would
marry, Morris."

His son turned sharply, and answered:

"Thank you, father, but I have no fancy that way."

"Now, there's Jane Rose, or that handsome Eliza Layard," went on the
Colonel, taking no notice. "I have reason to know that you might have
either of them for the asking, and they are both good women without
a breath against them, and, what in the state of this property is not
without importance, very well to do. Jane gets fifty thousand pounds
down on the day of her marriage, and as much more, together with the
place, upon old Lady Rose's death; while Miss Layard--if she is not
quite to the manner born--has the interest in that great colliery and a
rather sickly brother. Lastly--and this is strange enough, considering
how you treat them--they admire you, or at least Eliza does, for she
told me she thought you the most interesting m