-sighted and careful
consideration--he would do nothing that might injure Fleur. That
resolution taken, his mind answered the helm again, and he made his
ablutions. His hands trembled as he dried them. Scandal he would not
have, but something must be done to stop this sort of thing! He went
into his wife's room and stood looking round him. The idea of searching
for anything which would incriminate, and entitle him to hold a menace
over her, did not even come to him. There would be nothing--she was
much too practical. The idea of having her watched had been dismissed
before it came--too well he remembered his previous experience of that.
No! He had nothing but this torn-up letter from some anonymous ruffian,
whose impudent intrusion into his private life he so violently
resented. It was repugnant to him to make use of it, but he might have
to. What a mercy Fleur was not at home to-night! A tap on the door
broke up his painful cogitations.

"Mr. Michael Mont, sir, is in the drawing-room. Will you see him?"

"No," said Soames; "yes. I'll come down."

Anything that would take his mind off for a few minutes!

Michael Mont in flannels stood on the verandah, smoking a cigarette. He
threw it away as Soames came up, and ran his hand through his hair.

Soames' feeling towards this young man was singular. He was no doubt a
rackety, irresponsible young fellow according to old standards, yet
somehow likeable, with his extraordinarily cheerful way of blurting out
his opinions.

"Come in," he said; "have you had tea?"

Mont came in.

"I thought Fleur would have been back, sir; but I'm glad she isn't. The
fact is, I--I'm fearfully gone on her; so fearfully gone that I thought
you'd better know. It's old-fashioned, of course, coming to fathers
first, but I thought you'd forgive that. I went to my own dad, and he
says if I settle down he'll see me through. He rather cottons to the
idea, in fact. I told him about your Goya."

"Oh!" said Soames, inexpressibly dry. "He rather cottons?"

"Yes, sir; do you?"

Soames smiled faintly. "You see," resumed Mont, twiddling his straw
hat, while his hair, ears, eyebrows, all seemed to stand up from
excitement, "when you've been through the War you can't help being in a
hurry."

"To get married; and unmarried afterwards," said Soames slowly.

"Not from Fleur, sir. Imagine, if you were me!"

Soames cleared his throat. That way of putting it was forcible enough.

"Fleur's too young," h