"Tom has been here all the afternoon and evening, and aunt has
been perfectly charming to him. Hugh, I know that everything is
going to be right now, and I owe it all to you. You don't know how
grateful I am, dear. I shall never, never forget your goodness and
sweetness to me, dear old Hugh.

"Your loving
"MARJORIE."

With something approaching reverent care, Hugh put the little
pink-scented note into his pocket-book.

To-night he would go to Town, to-morrow he would interview Miss Joan
Meredyth. He would offer her no explanations, because the secret was
not his own, and nothing must happen now that might upset or tell
against Marjorie's happiness.

He would express regret for what had happened, ask her to try and
realise that no indignity and no insult had ever been intended against
her, and then he would offer her his hand, but certainly not his heart.
If she felt the sting of her poverty so, then perhaps the thought of his
eight thousand a year would act as balm to her wounded feelings.

At this time Hugh Alston had a very poor opinion of Miss Meredyth. He
did not deny her loveliness. He could not; no man in his senses and
gifted with eyesight could. But the placid prettiness of Marjorie
appealed to him far more than the cold, disdainful beauty of the young
woman he had called ungenerous, and who had in her turn called him a
cad.