bachelor brother, when Lady Hortense Vevay appeared on the scene.

Lady Hortense, with her mother, the Duchess of Dare, had come down
to Devon for the shooting one autumn, seeking rest after a strenuous
social season following her presentation at court. She had been there
less than a week when she bagged the biggest game in the neighborhood.
The explanation was obvious: the Lady Hortense had no faults to be
discovered. The closest inspection through two pairs of glasses,
Percival's and her own, failed to reveal a flaw. Her birth and position
were equal to his own; her beauty, if attenuated, was sufficient; while
her discriminating taste amounted to a virtue. The Honorable Percival
proffered his hand, and was accepted. Hascombe Hall rang with applause.

All might have been well had not mother and daughter been pressed to
seal the compact by a closer intimacy in a ten-days' visit at the hall.
The young people were allowed to bask uninterrupted in the light of each
other's perfections, and the result was disastrous. Two persons who have
achieved distinction as soloists do not take kindly to duets. A few days
after the Vevays' return to London, Lady Hortense wrote a perfectly
worded note, and asked to be released from the engagement.

The utterly preposterous fact that a Hascombe of Hascombe Hall had been
jilted was too amazing a circumstance to be concealed, and the county
buzzed with rumors. The Honorable Percival, whose pride had sustained
a compound fracture, set sail immediately for America. After a hurried
trip across the continent, he was embarking again, this time for
Hong-Kong, where a sympathetic married sister held out embracing arms,
and a promise of refuge from wagging tongues.

As he moved languidly down the deck and sank into the steamer-chair that