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 "It's only been arranged in the last few days," said Peter, "by many telegrams. I was told to tell you."

"Is he nice?"

"Yes. He's a good chap."

"Rich?"

"Well—rather rising than rich."

"Who is it?"

"Your brother John."

"My dear Peter—"

"No—I never did, either!"

"Isn't that splendid!"

Peter pulled a grave face.

"Yes—and no," he said.

"I hope you're not going to be insolent," said Margaret.

"It depends on what you call insolent. My father, you see, objects very much to having Ellen go out of the family, but he says that he can learn to bear that if the only other girl in the world will come into the family."

Manners' voice had become husky toward the last of the sentence, and perhaps not husky so much as hungry. Mar-