ould think. I suppose he is always in
clever society?"

"I suppose so."

"And why doesn't he invite you to London, and take you to see people?"

"Oh, he knows me better than that!" replied Ivy, with a laugh.

Whilst the girls talked thus, Eustace Glazzard and his brother were
also in confidential chat. They had gone to the library and made
themselves comfortable with cigars--a cellaret and glasses standing
within reach. The rooms at Highmead gave evidence of neglect. Guests
were seldom entertained; the servants were few, and not well looked
after.

"She has, I dare say, thirty thousand," William Glazzard was saying,
with an air of indifference. "I suppose she'll marry some parson. Let
us hope it's one of the fifty-pound curates."

"Deep in the old slough?"

"Hopelessly--or Ivy wouldn't be so thick with her."

When he had spoken, William turned with an expressive smile.

"Still, who knows? I rather like the girl. She has no humbug about
her--no pretence, that's to say. You see how she dresses."

"A bad sign, I'm afraid."

"Well, no, not in this case, I think. Her home accounts for it. That
old ass, Mumbray, and his wife make things pretty sour for her, as the
Germans say; at least, I guess so."

"I don't dislike her appearance--intelligent at bottom, I should
imagine."

There followed a long silence. Eustace broke it by asking softly:

"And how do things go with you?"

"The same as ever. Steadily down-hill I had better let the place before
it gets into a thoroughly bad state. And you?"

His brother made no answer, but sat with bent head.

"You remember Stark," he said at length, "the lawyer? He wants me to
stand for Polterham at the next election."

"You? In place of Welwyn-Baker?"

"No; as Liberal candidate; or Radical, if you like."

"You're joking, I suppose!"

"Where's the impossibility?"

Their eyes met.

"There's no absurdity," said William, "in your standing for Parliament;
_au contraire_. But I can't imagine you on the Radical side. And I
don't see the necessity of that. Welwyn-Baker is breaking up; they
won't let him come forward again, even if he wishes. His son is
disliked, and would have a very poor chance. If you cared to put
yourself in touch with Mumbray and the rest of them--by love! I believe
they would welcome you. I don't know of any one but the Welwyn-Bakers
at all likely to stand."

"But," objected his brother, "what's the use of my standing for a party
that is pretty