oject with him was not a new thing. He
did love his cousin quite sufficiently for purposes of matrimony, and
was minded that it would be a good thing for him to marry. He could
not marry without money, but this marriage would give him an income
without the trouble of intricate settlements, or the interference of
lawyers hostile to his own interests. It was possible that he might
do better; but then it was possible also that he might do much worse;
and, in addition to this, he was fond of his cousin. He discussed the
matter within himself, very calmly; made some excellent resolutions
as to the kind of life which it would behove him to live as a married
man; settled on the street in London in which he would have his
house, and behaved very prettily to Bell for four or five days
running. That he did not make love to her, in the ordinary sense of
the word, must, I suppose, be taken for granted, seeing that Bell
herself did not recognise the fact. She had always liked her cousin,
and thought that in these days he was making himself particularly
agreeable.

On the evening before the party the girls were at the Great House,
having come up nominally with the intention of discussing the
expediency of dancing on the lawn. Lily had made up her mind that it
was to be so, but Bell had objected that it would be cold and damp,
and that the drawing-room would be nicer for dancing.

"You see we've only got four young gentlemen and one ungrown," said
Lily; "and they will look so stupid standing up all properly in a
room, as though we had a regular party."

"Thank you for the compliment," said Crosbie, taking off his straw
hat.

"So you will; and we girls will look more stupid still. But out on
the lawn it won't look stupid at all. Two or three might stand up on
the lawn, and it would be jolly enough."

"I don't quite see it," said Bernard.

"Yes, I think I see it," said Crosbie. "The unadaptability of the
lawn for the purpose of a ball--"

"Nobody is thinking of a ball," said Lily, with mock petulance.

"I'm defending you, and yet you won't let me speak. The
unadaptability of the lawn for the purpose of a ball will conceal the
insufficiency of four men and a boy as a supply of male dancers. But,
Lily, who is the ungrown gentleman? Is it your old friend Johnny
Eames?"

Lily's voice became sobered as she answered him.

"Oh, no; I did not mean Mr Eames. He is coming, but I did not mean
him. Dick Boyce, Mr Boyce's son, is only