Mr. Markrute smoothed his hands. He was a peculiarly still person
generally.

"Yes, it was a blunder, I admit, to put it this way. So I will be frank
with you. My family is also, my friend, as old as yours. My niece is all
I have left in the world. I would like to see her married to an
Englishman. I would like to see her married to you of all Englishmen
because I like you and you have qualities about you which count in life.
Oh, believe me!"--and he raised a protesting finger to quell an
interruption--"I have studied you these years; there is nothing you can
say of yourself or your affairs that I do not know."

Lord Tancred laughed.

"My dear old boy," he said, "we have been friends for a long time; and,
now we are coming to hometruths, I must say I like your deuced
cold-blooded point of view on every subject. I like your knowledge of
wines and cigars and pictures, and you are a most entertaining
companion. But, 'pon my soul I would not like to have your niece for a
wife if she took after you!"

"You think she would be cold-blooded, too?"

"Undoubtedly; but it is all perfectly preposterous. I don't believe you
mean a word you are saying--it is some kind of a joke."

"Have you ever known me to make such jokes, Tancred?" Mr. Markrute asked
calmly.

"No, I haven't, and that is the odd part of it. What the devil do you