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 not shine particularly. Dumbarton's future duchess scowled at you—it would be idle to pretend that she didn't—Mother looked daggers; the great Proconsul's eyebrows said, "Shut up, you young fool," as audibly as eyebrows could indulge in that expression; and your future father-in-law had that satyr-like air which most people thought so damned unpleasant; but to you, young man, in your heedlessness, these signs and portents were without significance.

Your tenantry will doubtless keep always a warm corner for you in their hearts; and when you lead your charming bride to the altar you will be the recipient of a massive silver tea-service, no doubt; but if you continue in this way it is unlikely that posterity will be able to point out your effigy in marble, and in knee-*breeches, too, to its great grandchildren as it walks along Whitehall. Yes, really a very tactless young fellow.

"Warlock," said Father bitterly, "I think that boy of mine must be mad. I wouldn't have had this happen for a very great deal. I don't know what Vandeleur will think, I'm sure."

"I can tell you, Shelmerdine," said the possessor of the satyr-like air, smiling grimly at the empty fireplace. "Vandeleur will think there is no tooth so keen as man's ingratitude."

"Warlock," said Father, with clenched hands, "it's