"I have a proposition to make to you should you care to accept it. I
have a niece--a widow--she is rather an attractive lady. If you will
marry her I will pay off all your mortgages and settle on her quite a
princely dower."

"Good God!" said Lord Tancred.

The financier reddened a little about the temples, and his eyes for an
instant gave forth a flash of steel. There had been an infinite variety
of meanings hidden in the exclamation, but he demanded suavely:

"What point of the question causes you to exclaim 'Good God'?"

The sang-froid of Lord Tancred never deserted him.

"The whole thing," he said--"to marry at all, to begin with, and to
marry an unknown woman, to have one's debts paid, for the rest! It is a
tall order."

"A most common occurrence. Think of the number of your peers who have
gone to America for their wives, for no other reason."

"And think of the rotters they are--most of them! I mayn't be much
catch, financially; but I have one of the oldest names and titles in
England--and up to now we have not had any cads nor cowards in the
family, and I think a man who marries a woman for money is both. By
Jove! Francis, what are you driving at? Confound it, man! I am not
starving and can work, if it should ever come to that."